


The Art of Taming an Ocean

by Seldarius



Series: Phryniverse [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 13:56:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16620308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seldarius/pseuds/Seldarius
Summary: A birthday party ends with a body floating in the lake. Miss Fisher and her Inspector take up investigations and quickly stumble into a web of secrets surrounding sex, deceit and money. The case heats up further when shadows of the past resurface and Jack begins to wonder just how well Phryne has known the deceased.





	1. Calm Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> On a special request I have decided to copy over my old fics from fanfiction. This one was originally posted between Dec 5, 2013 and Dec 18, 2013.

Jack Robinson awoke at the bottom of the sea. He blinked slowly into the morning light that fell through still closed curtains, dipping his bedroom into a magical aquamarine. The second knock finally found it's way to his conscience. Jack answered with a noise that, with some imagination, could have been interpreted as a “Yes”. It was good enough for the man standing in front of his bedroom door, waiting patiently like every morning for the Inspector to arrive in the land of the living. 

“Detective-Inspector? It is seven o'clock.“

Jack surpressed a yawn. 

„Thank you, Mr. Butler.“

„Will you be needing any help, sir?“

„I believe I am still capable of getting dressed on my own, thank you all the same.“ 

With a smile the butler pulled the door shut and made his way back downstairs into the kitchen. Behind stayed a blurry eyed Jack, who decided to fall back into the soft cream coloured pillows just that moment longer. While he watched the spots of light dance over the brightly colored walls, his astonishment once again made space to the fact that he was head over heels in love with this room.   
The first morning he had awoken here, Miss Fisher draped uncerimoniously across him in her sleep, the sheets half tangled between them, half on the floor, he had realised that for the first time in 15 years he'd felt at home. It had only been two weeks since DI Jack Robinson had followed the invitation of The Honourable Phryne Fisher to join her household as a guest. Admittedly it hadn't been a decision that had come easily to the Inspector. Grown up with the values of the old world he still stumbled over the idea that a woman could not only live without a man, she could also live with one, if she so chose. It wasn't so much his brain, which had long since resigned to the fact that marriage was not all that it was cracked up to be. But deep down in his gut it still seemed an awkward arrangement for a poor sod of a policeman to be the house guest of a high society lady.   
Of course, it was not any lady. It was Phryne Fisher. And that in itself was argument enough to take up her invitation. He had insisted however to pay rent and even though they both knew that the few pounds he could afford on his more than modest salary wouldn't cause a stir in Phryne's riches, she had accepted that Jack's pride needed this much redemption to survive. 

The Inspector flicked the sheets back and was greeted by a fresh breeze of cool air. His mind duly wondered just where Phryne was this morning. While part of him regret her absence, the rest could not help but be relieved. Maybe, just maybe he could manage a timely arrival at the station for once. Most likely she had collapsed into her own bed after dancing and drinking the night away at her friend Pauline's birthday party. When he had left, she definitely seemed to have been enjoying herself – possibly a bit more than was strictly necessary. Jack slipped into his shirt and tried to shake off the thoughts invading his brain. Miss Fisher was an appearance that caused a stir. And if he himself had sensed it from the day they had met, others would feel it too. Sometimes he wondered how far she was aware of the eyes in the room turning in her direction when she entered. She was like a small, sparkling planet in the middle of a dance floor, people rotating around her like moons drawn in by her gravity. And the Inspector felt like a very tired, old rock right now. 

It was a daring venture to tie ones heart on a woman like that and he was sure that many a whisper that had flown between the guests of last nights dance, had discussed just who the poor sod was that was attempting to tame Miss Fisher this time. They might have been interested in his thoughts on it. Then again, probably not. People like them generally didn't care too much about the opinion of human beings who earned less in a year than they would spend on an evening like that. 

The Inspector sighed and dropped the razor blade back onto the table to wipe the foam off his face. He had long since stopped to care about other peoples opinions or it would have worried him just what people had concluded when he had married the daughter of a higher officer back in the day. When the same daughter had moved to her sister just a few years after him returning from the war. When Phryne Fisher had started to settle in his life while he was still a married man. Jack Robinson knew very well that some of his fellow officers were none too pleased with the lady sweeping in and out of their police station in her expensive clothes and French perfumes. He knew what it meant if the conversation dropped as soon as they entered a room; could decipher their glances all too well. Some policemen even thought that he had lost his touch, neglected his work to flatter the rich lady detective. They mostly had shut their mouths when Phryne and himself, with the considerable help of Sanderson and Collins, had locked up the biggest gangster family in the city some months ago. There was little arguing with success. However, the rumour he could not deny was that he was warming Phryne's bed. Well, as a matter of fact it was mostly her warming his own. Not only were there no ghosts to defy in the old guest room that had turned into his sanctuary, but also, in contrast to her, he had to actually leave said bed early in the morning which seemed easier accomplished this way. There was also a whole lot of other reasons that the Inspector chose to not further explore. 

Now he fastened his tie and took the wooden stairs two at a time. The breakfast table was set for only one and once again the Inspector wished he could just take his coffee and toast with everybody else in the kitchen. While he understood there was a certain class difference between Miss Fisher and her staff that she ever so often chose to ignore herself, he could not seem to easily slip through the cracks. The detective decided to play by the rules and sat down. As if by magic Mr. Butler appeared by his side to pour him coffee. Jack fished for the paper. It was astounding just how easily you could adapt to a completely new routine. 

“Thank you.” He mumbled, half absorbed in an article about a chain of robberies shaking the rich and beautiful of Melbourne. Seconds later he realised that he was still in company. Jack Robinson looked up. Mr. Butler had busied himself at the sideboard, apparently cleaning something up which the Inspector was sure didn't need cleaning just yet. 

“Is Miss Fisher going to join me soon?” He heard himself ask, lifting the cup to his lips. The butler turned around, worry edged on his face. 

“I'm afraid the lady of the house has not yet returned from her outing.” 

Jack coughed as the hot coffee threatened to burn it's way into his lungs. A thousand thoughts were spinning through his head. He remembered clear as day his time imprisoned in a basement, shot and ready to die. He had gone dropping off the radar over night and hadn't it been for Phryne coming to look for him, he most probably would have done just that. What if she had gotten herself in danger now? The insane woman seemed to attract trouble like a magnet. He needed to go find her. Right now. 

Through his thoughts he heard the butler clear his throat. The detective looked up and noticed to his astonishment that the worry had turned into embarrassment on Mr. Butlers face. 

“I'm sorry, Sir.”

The Inspector felt as if the servant had emptied a bucket of ice water over his head. He locked eyes with the older man. So he didn't think she had gotten herself kidnapped or was chasing after a murderer right now. He thought she had ended up in someone else's doubtlessly expensive sheets. Jack swallowed hard. He felt his heart clench in his chest. That was of course a possibility he had to consider. And just what that would mean for their relationship...

The ringing of the phone tore him from his thoughts. Just seconds later Dorothy Williams stuck her head through the door. 

„Inspector Robinson. It's Miss Fisher on the phone for you.” 

With wobbly knees Jack got up and answered the phone. 

“Phryne?”

He could hear the ice in his own voice. Miss Fisher however seemed oblivious to it. She sounded distressed and with a pang Jack was back to worrying for her. 

“Jack?” He heard her pant. “You have to come. Something has happened.”


	2. Dark Clouds

The coldness in the Inspectors voice was not at all lost on Phryne. Even though she did have a vague idea just what might be the reason for his indignation, she decided to ignore it. There was no time in the current moment for Jack's sensibilities. Miss Fisher was not in a good mood. She had awoken in cold, clammy sheets this morning, covered in a thin film of sweat and to make matters worse, not in her own bed. While that had been due to another man it was not in the way Jack Robinson was currently inclined to think. Phryne made a mental note to explain matters to him as soon as the possibility would arise, but for the moment there were other priorities to take care of. 

“Are you alright, Phryne?”

She had almost missed his question that to her surprise, was asked in a completely changed tone. Miss Fisher still struggled to get used to the idea that the Inspector would be more interested in her well being than in any corpse he would stumble across. It caused a warm fuzzy feeling that right now, annoyed her beyond comprehension. 

“Fine, Jack. However, the body floating in the lake down here is not.” 

Silence answered her. Miss Fisher felt inclined to fill it. 

“Pauline noticed her husband's absence around quarter to two this morning. The search party had no success in the night so we tried our luck after sunrise and we did find Marcel Denier. I'm afraid face down in the water. I would appreciate if you would make your way here.” 

Phryne realised that her own tone of voice was not suited to talk to the man she shared bed and heart with and who held no responsibility at all for her lack of sleep or the throbbing headache that haunted her this morning. The two hours rest she had wedged in between searches in one of the Denier Estates countless guest rooms had left her exhausted rather than refreshed, after she had woken from a nightmare that had included Jack being tied to a chair with blue ribbons and Murdoch Foyle attempting to slash his throat. Finding the body of her friend's husband in the lake also hadn't helped to improve her temper. 

„I will be there soon.“ 

The line died before Phryne got a chance to answer. He had sounded calm, collected. Maybe his head was already invested in the case. But then again, Miss Fisher was too good a detective to actually believe that. She sighed as she put the phone down. There would be a way to make amends later, for the moment they had a case to solve. 

X

When Phryne Fisher finally returned to the lakeside the milky morning sun was hiding behind a wall of grey clouds that looked suspiciously like rain. A stable hand whose name she could not remember, even though he had saddled a horse for her just last week followed by a rather intriguing string of compliments, was helping Simon Ellis, the loyal butler of the Deniers, to lay the naked body of their master out onto the grass. 

Phryne crouched down beside Marcel's corpse before anyone could raise a voice of protest. Admittedly, it was not ladylike to ignore the state of undress in her old acquaintance, dead or alive, but currently Miss Fisher was neither a lady nor a friend but a private detective trying to make herself familiar with the case. The body had a distinctive blueish tinge, was cold to the touch and turning a clammy hand, Phryne could see maceration forming on the palms. Marcel had been lying in his beloved lake for several hours, there was no doubt about it. But why had he drowned? Granted he had been heavily drinking the last night as just about everybody else around him...

„You may want to have a look at the head.“ A calm voice beside her stated. Phryne raised her eyes. She had been too engrossed in the corpse to even notice Jack's arrival. An alarm bell in her head told her that she was walking in dangerous territory. 

„Good Morning, Jack. I was actually just trying to establish a time of death. I believe from the state of the skin and the temperature he has been in the water all night.“ Phryne parried and locked eyes with the Inspector who had knelt down on the other side. The almost invisible smile playing around his lips let her release a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. 

“Impressive, Miss Fisher. And what do you make of this?” He said, turning Marcel's head slightly to reveal a small wound, half covered by a lump of hair in which still stuck some coagulated blood the water hadn't yet managed to wash away. 

“That seems to be a head wound. Possibly acquired post mortem drifting in the lake.” She said, feeling like a student as she watched the Detectives thoughtful nod. 

“Then again,” she added on afterthought, “Blood would be unlikely to clot like this under water.”   
“Which means?” Jack asked, his dark grey eyes sparkling. 

Phryne looked up and couldn't help but smile at his expression. 

“That, Inspector Robinson, we are now trying to find a murderer.” 

X

Dorothy Williams was worrying. It seemed the only thing she could do right now and she didn't particularly appreciate this conclusion. While she rolled out the dough for the shortbread she would donate into Sundays bake sale she wondered just what Miss Fisher had stumbled over. The maid had wanted to ask the Inspector to take her along, but Jack Robinson had been out the door faster than lightning the second Phryne had called on him. In a way that was probably sweet, Dorothy mused and smiled quietly to herself. As little as she understood her employers dislike of ordinary and proper things like marriage; Dorothy Williams was neither a fool nor blind to the romance that had been unfolding a long time between Miss Fisher and her Inspector and she was dearly wishing it would last. Jack Robinson was a good man. Someone you would entrust your children too – if she would ever have children. Hugh saw in him his glowing idol, almost as if he was a father he was trying to impress. And also he seemed to keep Miss Fisher save and on this side of sanity which was bound to be a handful at times. He was also rather dashing, which was a thought Dot carefully folded into the drawers of her brain to be stored away safely. Surely it wasn't appropriate to think this way about the sweetheart of your mistress. 

“Dorothy, a visitor for you.” 

Dot almost dropped her rolling pin on Mr. Butlers appearance. That man was a sneak. When her heart rate had slowed down back to a normal level, Hugh stepped through the kitchen door. He was in full uniform and looked as if he had been in a slight hurry. 

“Dottie? Why aren't you ready yet?”

“Ready for what, Hugh Collins?” She replied, confusion colouring her tone. He seemed to have to ponder this for a second as he sat his hat down. 

“Miss Fisher called the station, asked me to come out to the Denier's house to secure some corpse. And she said to take you along, because the tea is apparently awful.” 

A grin whispered over Dottie's features. It was like Miss Phryne to get the police to escort her to her murder scene. In sudden enthusiasm she wiped her hands onto her apron. 

“Give me five minutes, Hugh.”

She walked past him, then changed her mind and twirled around to press a kiss onto the tip of the shocked officers nose with a broad smile. Hugh Collins watched in astonishment as his sweetheart scrambled out the door to get ready.


	3. Monsoon

The Inspector stood respectfully in the door, his notebook in hand. This part about his job he hated with a passion, but it needed to be done. Phryne looked up from consoling her friend and gave him an approving nod. 

“I know it is a bad time, Mrs. Denier, but I am afraid I have to ask some questions about your late husband.” 

A pair of red, swollen eyes stared at him in confusion for a moment, obviously trying to sort him into a particular corner of her mind. Of course she would hardly remember a policeman in a blue wool suit even though he had been a guest at her party only 12 hours ago. 

“You do remember Inspector Robinson, Pauline?” He heard Phryne say, who had sensed the awkwardness invading the room. “I'm afraid she is rather in shock, Jack.” 

He nodded slowly. He didn't need her to do this. He was a policeman and being overlooked by the rich and important was not something he wasn't used to. If they weren't trying to shoo or threaten him out of their way. His job wasn't a popular one and he had learned not to let that bother him. He wasn't sure why it angered him so much today then. 

A quiet sob tore him from his musing. Pauline Denier had returned to crying and Jack had to resist the urge to roll up his eyes. Even though she could not have slept much and, if he remembered the amount of alcohol that had flown through her champagne glass last night, she also must have a terrible hangover; her brunette hair was sitting in an immaculate do and her dress was, as far as he could decipher, of the latest fashion. When she hadn't got tears running over her lightly tanned cheeks he remembered her to be rather beautiful, if in an understated way. It annoyed him, that she would think of her looks, while her husband was lying dead outside and even more that he couldn't seem to tear a sensible word from her. The air in the sitting room was hot and suffocating; filled with sobs that he grew tired of. He felt his patience slipping. Jack stared at the shaking shoulders and made a decision. 

“Maybe it is wise to attempt this at a later time. Can I speak to the rest of the party?” 

“I'll bring you to them.” Miss Fisher stated, barely hiding her enthusiasm of finally being able to leave the room but having the decency to remember her sobbing friend. 

“Pauline, I will accompany Jack to his interviews. But I'll send Marie over, as soon as she is done.” 

Mrs. Denier had obviously drifted off again into her own watery world and only nodded. 

“Mr. Ellis?” 

The butler showed in the doorstep only a mere second later. Impressed Jack thought of Mr. Butler. Ellis must have almost the same psychic ability. 

“Would you please be so kind as to bring Mrs. Denier some tea. Maybe with something strong in it?” Phryne requested and didn't wait for an answer before sweeping out the door. 

X

The little group littered through the emerald green cushions of the drawing room, was silent. There was only that much you could talk with people you had met just the night before, only to end an enjoyable evening with the dead body of an acquaintance. Miss White got to her feet with a smooth gesture and fished a cigarette out of her silver case. 

“Please allow me.“ 

Brad Sinclair missed the disapproving look of his wife that was quickly hidden by a faux smile as he scrambled to his feet and patted his pockets for a lighter. Marie leaned in and took a deep breath as the flame lit up. 

“Thank you.“ Her smile could have melted ice, but was luckily blocked from Annabel's view by her husband, who had a slight blush creeping up to his hair line. Miss White took another draw, then flung her white fur stole back over her similarly white shoulder and slipped back beside her fiancé. Mr. Sinclair stood for a moment longer, looking lost in between the expensive furniture and loving clutter collected over many years. An attentive observer might have also noticed the sweat glistening on his forehead, but none of the guests paid him that much mind. Finally he sunk back beside his wife on the loveseat, careful to the distance from her and also the seat cushions. The wind rattled in the shutters as it picked up and threw the first raindrops against the glass. Aromatic smoke curled through the room. After the first shock had departed the leftover guests were starting to get bored; nothing much seemed to be happening even though the police had started to swarm the estate and had shooed them up here for questioning. Quiet chatter was started again. There was only so much silence you could bear, even with people you only had met the night before. 

The Captain, whose name nobody remembered, cracked a joke resulting in uneasy laughter. It managed to drown out, however, the quietly whispered words exchanged between the Sinclairs. 

“I think we should tell him, Brad.“

“It's none of our business.”

“Nothing of this here is our business. But he ought to know.” 

“I will not tell him and neither will you.” 

The glare, Brad Sinclair shot his wife could have killed on the spot. It was quite a shame, he thought, that looks were so inefficient. 

Just that moment the Honourable Phryne Fisher entered the room, followed by a man who by the way he was holding himself could be nothing but a policeman. Marie White vaguely remembered seeing him at the party, looking uneasy and alien. She was intrigued. 

 

X

 

Rain was pelting down on the dark green foliage, as the black police car left the last houses behind. Despite the gravity of the situation Dottie found she was having a rather pleasant time. It was nice to not feel carsick for once and having time to enjoy the slightly blurred view over the soft hills just outside of Melbourne. Hugh Collins was driving very much in line with his character – a bit nervous, but mostly save and slow. The smell of his aftershave, very nice, if a little too eagerly applied, lingered in the car and Dorothy found, that it added to the pleasure of just sitting here in the dry and watch the thick curtains of rain fall all around them. They didn't say much; didn't need to. The comfortable silence was rudely interrupted by a pair of headlights flying towards them at a speed that was far from save or slow. Their horn was drowned out by the rain as the dark car raced right towards them. Hugh ripped the wheel to the side, the screeching tyres losing grip on the wet street, causing the police car to slide across the asphalt as the other car missed them by a bare two inches. Spinning, the vehicle came to a halt in the ditch while the offending driver's car vanished behind the wall of water. The couple sat for a while panting in absolute silence, getting their grips on still being alive despite the odds. 

“Hugh, I didn't think I would ever say this,” uttered Dottie finally her voice still shaking, “but it might after all be safer to drive with Miss Fisher.”


	4. Downpour

Jack was standing at the window of the small dining room he had picked for interviewing. Unseeingly he stared out into the rain and trying to sort through his first, or rather second impressions of the “hard group”, that had stayed after most guests had left around midnight. There was of course Phryne, she would hardly be someone he had to worry about. At least not in regard to his case. Then Annabel and Brad Sinclair, a rather non-descript couple of middle age, a bit too nice. The kind of people who knew that they needed to pretend to care for the less fortunate in order to consider themselves kind-hearted. He had briefly conversed with them last night. She had been drinking too much and too fast for the Inspector to believe her marriage to be quite as harmonious as she made it out to be. He had been mostly busy telling people about his achievements, his business, his property and his charity work without convincing him either. The detective had the feeling that they could also not fool Marie White, a woman that was about Phryne's age and of similar intelligence if the look in her remarkably dark green eyes was anything to go by. She'd donned last nights dress and fur with the elegance of a pure bred lady. Her husband-to-be, one David M. Price, was in for a handful he guessed. The man seemed however up for the challenge; he was as slick as an eel and equally hard to grip. Whatever she found about him was beyond the Inspectors judgement. Which left Captain Phil McStanley, an old seaman past his prime who Jack imagined would start on the rum around 8 am and on the dirty jokes around 10. Quite a mixed selection of suspects. 

The inspector sighed. And while he was busy sorting through mostly unnecessary mountains of information, his crime scene, wherever it might be, would be swept away by the pouring rain. He felt the clicking of the door more than he heard it. 

“Let me guess.“ She said, right behind him, her warmth radiating through her dress waking in him the sudden urge to lean back against her and close his eyes, case be damned. He resisted. Barely. 

“You are worrying about the water damaging your crime scene.“ 

The Inspector turned around. The twinkle in Miss Fishers eyes awoke other urges in him that he currently really didn't need. She cocked her head. 

“I read your mind.” 

Despite himself, he smiled. 

“Well, Miss Fisher, then I am sure you can tell me who I want to talk to first.”

She rolled her eyes in mock thoughtfulness and twisted her red lips into a smile. 

“Marie, of course.” 

Jack leaned back against the table and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“And whatever brings you to this conclusion?” 

“You know I promised Pauline her company, and...” she said in turning to the door; “...she is also a fascinating woman, rebellious. The kind you like, Jack.” 

She was back out the door, before he had decided if to kiss or strangle her.   
Only seconds later the handle was pushed down again and a drenched Hugh appeared. 

“My god, Collins, did you have to drive in from Sydney?” The Inspector asked without much sympathy. 

The Constable shook his head to rid himself of the raindrops, reminding the higher officer of a puppy dog that had taken an involuntary bath. 

“Sorry Sir, I'm afraid Dottie and I had quite a fright on the way here. Erratic driver ran us off the road, Sir.”

“And that even though Miss Fisher was here the whole time.” Jack stated dryly under his breath.   
He bit back the question why exactly Collins had brought Miss Williams along to start with. He could imagine the answer to that.

“Sorry, Sir?” 

“You didn't by chance notice the number plates, Constable?” 

“Afraid not. I was too busy clutching onto my life.” 

The Inspector nodded. 

“Fair enough. Since I assume Miss Williams is safely deposited into Miss Fisher's company, I'd like you to speak to the staff.” 

He made a pause to check his notes. 

“I believe the Butler, a Mr. Ellis, found the body while in a search party with the wife of the deceased. So he might have noticed something before she broke down in hysterics.” 

“Anything else?”

“Just try and stay out of any more troubles, Collins.” 

“I'll try my hardest, Sir.” 

X

It was dislike at first sight, Dot could not have explained it any other way. The moment Miss Fisher introduced her to Marie White, some alarm clock went off inside her head that didn't seem to have any intention to quiet down again. It didn't appear to have an off button either. It wasn't so much that Miss White intimidated her. Even though she could feel herself still trembling after their adventure on the road while the short trip from the car had left her lovely coat drenched and the lady looked rather perfect, despite still wearing last nights dress. Dorothy couldn't quite put her finger on what exactly rubbed her the wrong way about the red-lipped smile and the carefully picked words. But when Miss White wandered off in direction of the Inspectors makeshift interview room, she breathed a sigh of relief. 

“You alright, Dot?” 

“Perfectly fine, Miss.” The companion tilted her head. “How exactly do you know Miss White?”   
Phryne looked at her companion curiously but decided to play along. 

“We've been introduced by a shared acquaintance, Mrs. Pauline Denier, whose husband decided to take an unfortunate bath this morning.” 

“I'm sorry Miss Fisher, was he a close friend?”

Phryne waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Not really, Dot. But Pauline I'm rather fond of and she has taken it hard. We better find out just who off'd her husband.” 

“So where do we start?“

“Right here, I'd say.”

Only now Dot noticed that Miss Fisher had walked her down a maze of corridors during their conversation and they had stopped in front of a dark brown door that looked rather solid. She watched her Mistress fish for a hat pin. 

“You're not intending to break in, Miss, are you?” 

“How else do you propose we get into Marcel's private rooms?” 

With a triumphant smile Dot pressed down the handle which resulted in the door swinging open with a very dramatic creak. 

“Now that's cheating, Dot.” 

With a proud smile on her lips, Phryne slipped the hatpin back and swept past her grinning companion. Dorothy followed behind slowly. Despite having been Miss Fisher's assistant sleuth for some time now, she was still not quite comfortable walking into someone else's rooms. It was just not decent. Miss Fisher seemed to have no such reservations; she thoughtfully ran a white gloved hand along the sideboard sweeping her trained look over the sitting room for anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't a particularly pretty room she found, fighting back her dislike. It was... pompous seemed to be the word she was looking for. Heavy furniture, dark leather, gilded clutter that didn't really fit. She couldn't say she was surprised by it. Marcel had always been more mouth than trousers so this was suiting his character rather well. Dot had gotten over her hesitance and was riffling, if very carefully, through the paperwork strewn over a writing desk of dark oak.   
Phryne watched her with a fond smile. The once shy maid had come a long way since their first meeting, she mused. Her companion even used the telephone without hesitation nowadays. The lady detectives eyes went back to the job at hand, scrolling through the clutter assembled on the fireplace. 

“This is odd.” 

Dot looked up. Her mistress inspected a small square stain with interest, running her gloved finger over the wood. 

“It almost looks as if something was missing here.”

Dorothy tore herself away from the pile of papers and stepped closer, when suddenly she came to a halt mid move. 

“Miss! I think you should look at this!” 

Phryne Fisher glanced up from the emptiness that have had a firm grip on her attention when she heard the agitation in Dot's voice. It was a small marble statue of a rather naked Greek goddess that seemed to be the cause of her companions excitement. Carefully Phryne picked up the white lady to inspect her closer. 

“Well done, Dot. It appears Aphrodite here has gotten blood on herself.”


	5. Blood Rain

DI Robinson found himself in a tricky situation. Miss Marie White was indeed a fascinating woman. In fact, she reminded him rather of Phryne. Then again, she was very much not Phryne, which meant he felt attracted and repelled in equal amounts by her. It had turned out to be the most awkward of sensations. Jack cleared his throat. 

“So, how well did you know Marcel Denier, Miss White?” 

She seemed to ponder this, as she took another drag from her cigarette. 

“Not as well, as he would have liked it.” She finally offered with a charming smile. Jack refused to return it, giving her a stern look that told her clearly that he was not compelled to flirt with her. At least not while investigating. 

“So, the deceased showed romantic interest in you?” 

“I don't know if I would call it 'romantic'.” She laughed as she rubbed out her gasper, then locked eyes with the Inspector. 

“Marcel was a charming, rich, handsome man and very aware of that very fact.“ She said with a shrug of her white shoulders that made the covering fur slip. 

“He was also married.” The Detective inquired. 

“Yes, so he was. That didn't stop him though from certain... lets say flirts.” 

Miss White managed to make that word sound almost frivolous. The detective swallowed hard. In some respects she really did remind him of Miss Fisher. 

“Is there any woman in particular you remember him having this kind of 'flirts' with?” 

She hesitated a moment too long for his liking before she denied. She was lying. But for the life of him he could not have said why. 

X

“Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Sir, I was not aware you were looking for me.” 

Hugh straightened his back; being called “Sir” was a rather rare occurrence for the young Constable. The search for the Butler had led him through the hands of two very chatty maids who had decided to share much more information about their employers with him than he'd really wanted to know. Like a good, eager policeman he had written down their eating habits and their recurring guest list, quietly sighing to himself. His ears had pricked up however when one of them, by the name of Elisabeth, had told him about their master being a bit of a “ladies man“ even though she refused to go into details, blushing furiously about herself being so forward. Finally he had managed to pry the whereabouts of Simon Ellis from them, which turned out to be alone in Mrs. Denier's rooms, clearing away the tea service. Hugh Collins found himself surprised to be confronted with a man not older than 40. Somehow, Butlers to him had always been rather stuffy men with white hair. Save Mr. Butler of course, he added silently. 

“I'm afraid, Milady is quite in disarray. Finding her husband was a terrible shock for her.”

The Constable licked his lips in concentration, going through his notes, before looking up again.

“Mrs. Denier was in your company, when she saw the body?” 

“That's correct, sir. We had split up in pairs of two, searching the grounds. When we walked along the lakeside I spied a shadow in the water that on closer inspection turned out to be my master.”

Hugh nodded, scribbling eagerly. 

“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”

“You mean beside the dead body, sir?” 

The policeman's head shot up, looking for a glimmer of sarcasm in the serious exterior of the servant. He was searching in vain however. Only a tiny sparkle in his opposites eyes might have been a hint of humour. 

“Yes, beside the dead body, Mr. Ellis.” He finally stated weakly. 

The Butler pondered this, before answering. 

“I walked into the shallow water to have a look but he was already cold, long since dead, I'm afraid. Mrs. Denier cried out, I believe when she realised what we found and then we were joined by Miss Fisher and Mr. Sinclair, who were searching near by.”

“Would you have any thoughts....” 

A scream cut Hugh off before he had finished the sentence. Both men locked eyes before starting to run as one. 

X

“Jack, I think I might have something for you.” 

A pair of grey eyes looked up from pondering over some notes. It had been a long day and the Inspector felt a headache coming on. None of the guests had really brought him any closer to a motive, save Miss White's vague hinting at Marcel Denier's tendency to cheat on his wife. He really had to speak with Pauline Denier he had just decided, when Miss Fisher had wandered through the door. It was astounding that she never seemed to look out of place. Jack rubbed his temples in a vain effort to concentrate. 

“Or Dot rather.” He heard her babble on conversationally while she slipping onto the edge of the dining table. Miss Williams stood in the door behind her, a slight blush creeping over her pretty features. 

Carefully the lady detective set down a small white statue of quite female appearance, she had been cradling in her arms. The Inspector had a closer look. 

“Is this what I think it is?”

“If you consider this to be the murder weapon, I believe you might be on the right track.” 

Warily Robinson inspected the faint trail of blood smudged over the marble, shaping a body part he rather hadn't described. 

“Where did you find this?” 

“In Marcel's sitting room. Oh don't look at me like that, Jack, you knew I was going to go there.”

She leaned over, her eyes sparkling. “I think we have found your crime scene and it's all yours. Completely undamaged.” 

That was certainly some improvement. And the eagerness in her features had the usual effect on him. Jack had to fight back a smile as he got up. 

„Well, Miss Fisher, we better had a look then before someone gets around to the disturbing.“ 

Nobody seemed currently in the mood to interfere with the deceased’s rooms. The Denier Estate lay in surprising silence for all the turmoil of the morning. The rain outside had turned into a lazy, grey drizzle, content to make anyone miserable who decided to step out their front door. Like the guests, who had finally been released for their homes and currently shuffled to their respective vehicles.   
Jack pushed the dark oak door open with the elan of someone who ought to be there. He had learned a long time ago, that that was the only way to walk into a room, someone could deny you entry to. His dark eyes took a quick sweep over the furniture. There was probably no point in even being here, Miss Fisher and company would have looked rather closely. But nevertheless he took in the way the deceased had lived and all that occurred to him as strange. It wasn't much. 

“I believe, something is missing over here, Jack.” She pointed out. He nodded, inspecting the fireplace. 

“But then again, someone could have just moved it. Nothing here points to a struggle.” 

Phryne found herself to be worried. Jack was all business as usual in the middle of a case, but something struck her as off. He looked tired and there was an expression around his eyes, that troubled her. Awaking from her thoughts, she realised that he had crouched down onto the red Persian stretching between the fireplace and the love seat. 

“Besides maybe this bloodstain here. You were right, Phryne. Marcel Denier likely has died here.” 

Miss Fisher had already knelt down beside her partner, inspecting the blotch of brown on the dark red ground. 

“So, someone hit him over the head and then dumped his body into the lake. Stripping him first?”   
DI Robinson sighed. 

“That doesn't make much sense.” 

“Unless someone is into moonlight skinny dipping.” 

The detectives eyes shot up, locking onto Phryne's. She smiled innocently. Before he could open his mouth to inquire about her knowledge regarding the subject, there was a sharp rapping at the door that was a split second later ripped open by a breathless Hugh Collins.

“Sir, you have to come. Mrs. Denier was robbed.“


	6. Long Shadows

The detectives found Pauline Denier sobbing into Miss William's arms. The companion seemed little concerned with the fact that her already wet coat got another thorough soaking by a lady she had never met before. It was her nature to take care of people needing her help, even if she really had just wanted to catch up with her sweetheart for a minute. Phryne shared a look with the Inspector before she slipped beside her friend onto the sofa and took her hand in her own. She instantly lived to regret that move. Pauline's skin was warm and clammy. 

“Pauline, what happened?“ 

Another whirl of sobs shook the Lady, but she finally wiped her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief and found a voice, drowning in tears. 

„I wanted to look into the safe to find Marcel's last will. I was hoping to encounter some details on the service he wished for, who to inform of his acquaintance, something to keep me occupied. And it's all gone. Everything!“

More crying followed. Phryne patted her hand, resisting the urge to wipe the sweat off her hand onto her expensive dress. 

“What are you missing, Mrs. Denier?“ 

Pauline looked up with a hint of shock. Inspector Robinson stood near the door, his note book in hand, very much a deja vu to a scene earlier this day. This time however her eyes lit up in understanding. 

“You are Phryne's policeman aren't you?“ She asked quietly. 

“Detective-Inspector Robinson.“ He stated calmly, preventing himself barely from nodding. „What are you missing, Mrs. Denier.“ 

He half expected another series of sobs, but the lady of the house seemed to have finally gotten a grip on herself. 

“Everything. Every single piece of my jewellery, Marcel's coin collection, a rather precious watch I inherited from my father, money, some important papers - all gone. Our safe has been plundered.“  
Jack looked up from scribbling down notes to meet her eyes. They were nice. Kind. He hadn't noticed that before, probably been too distracted by her bawling. And didn't she have every right to cry on the day her husband had been murdered? Suddenly he wasn't sure anymore what had angered him so much about it. Maybe that he had felt the urge to sit down beside her and join in.   
The thought shocked him somewhat. He didn't have time to dig deeper into this though, as Phryne had started talking quietly to Pauline asking her about the details of the robbery. She didn't have to add much to her story however.   
“Was there anything of considerable value in your husband's sitting room?“ The Inspector threw in on a hunch. “On the fireplace perhaps?“ 

Pauline Denier only had to think for a second. 

“A golden goblet with sapphires in it. A treasure from a trip to Egypt a long time ago, even though I'm not quite sure how he had gotten a hold of it.” 

Jack saw the flinch in Phryne's shoulders. Some shadows never died. But the moment passed quickly without her even stopping to rub calming circles on the back of her friends hand. 

“I found it rather foolish to leave such a prized possession out on display but Marcel was set on it. And arguing with my husband has always been a rather futile exercise I'm afraid.”

Jack nodded slowly, taking more notes. 

“I would like to also ask some questions about your husband's death, Mrs. Denier.“ 

The look in her eyes was that of surprise.

„Why? Please don't think me ungrateful, Inspector, but I don't understand why the police are even here. He drowned, didn't he?”

Jack didn't manage to more than open his mouth, when Phryne cut-in in a gentle tone of voice.   
“I'm afraid he didn't, Pauline. It looks like he was already dead before he reached the lake.” 

The Inspector watched curiously as the two women locked eyes. A whole conversation seemed to fly between them without words. The forgotten Miss Williams looked increasingly uncomfortable. He couldn't blame her. Jack cleared his throat. 

“Mrs. Denier, was it a habit of your husband to go swimming in the middle of the night? In a state of complete undress?” His eyes searched out Phryne. He had her words echoing through his brain. Moonlight skinny dipping. Maybe he imagined her avoiding his gaze. 

“I'm afraid Marcel thought that rather wild and romantic.” Pauline Denier smiled wryly. “It was of course not only indecent but also rather dangerous when he was as drunk as last night. So, to be honest, Inspector, I was shocked but not surprised when we found his body. I have always told him that it was a silly habit that would cause him harm someday.” 

At that, her voice lost its confidence again and started to sound teary. 

“Thank you.” The Inspector said simply and left the room, knowing that Miss Fisher would follow right behind. And sure enough she appeared just seconds later. 

“Moonlight skinny dipping?” He asked, leaning against the reassuringly cool wall. What he really wanted to ask was, how she had known. But he decided that that could wait. 

“Marcel might have been a tad eccentric.” She quipped, with a poker face of a smile. He looked at her, eyes dark with questions that she currently didn't want to answer. Miss Fisher swallowed. She had to talk to him and soon. They stood in silence, neither of them speaking the words that needed to be said, two pairs of eyes searching for a way to resolve this without getting hurt. 

That was when they heard the turmoil down the hall. 

X

It took some time and some futile attempts at calming the group of people to figure out what exactly had happened, but finally Jack raised his voice and everybody trailed off. The mixed group of guests, save the Sinclairs, who had decided to take their drive home, despite everything, had returned to inform the Detective-Inspector of another theft. Mr. Prices car had gone missing out of the garages, with no trace as to its whereabouts. 

“What kind of place is this? First a dead man and now my car? It's impossible.” 

Phryne rolled her eyes in silence at David Price. That man really was obnoxious. 

“Oh I'm rather enjoying myself. I quite like a bit of cabaret.” The Captain quipped, drawing some more uneasy laughter, just as Collins and Mr. Ellis arrived back from quietly finishing their interview. A pale Elisabeth stepped towards them and whispered something into the butlers ear. He cleared his throat loudly. 

“Inspector, I'm afraid, we are also missing a young man of our staff. Ryan Binley, who helped me lay out the body this morning has vanished from the stables. He might be in shock.” 

Wild chatter grew loud at those words. Jack lifted his hands. 

“Please, be quiet. Has anyone seen Mr. Binley since the morning?” 

Phryne saw Elisabeth pulling on Ellis' coat like a little girl would tug on the sleeve of her father, trying to get his attention. She stepped closer to the maid. 

“Have you noticed anything?“ She asked the young woman with the mass of curly, blonde hair spilling out under her cap. 

“No, but I think I might know where he would go, if he'd done a runner.“ She stated simply. Phryne listened.


	7. Evening Mist

The small collection of investigators had returned to the Inspector's makeshift office to regroup. DI Robinson sank onto one of the chairs and stared at the table, trying to shift the puzzle pieces into place, an effort that was interrupted by Miss Fisher hopping onto the wooden surface, crossing her legs and chatting right into his thoughts. 

“So, we got a missing stable hand. Could be the killer. Or the robber. Or neither.”

Jack gazed at her in a mixture of annoyance and amusement. 

“How very observant of you, Miss Fisher.” 

She brushed that comment off without an answer. 

“Well someone drove that car that ran poor Hugh of the road.” She pointed out with a smile.   
“And it was definitely Mr. Prize's car, sir.” The Constable threw in from the direction of the door. The Inspector looked up and sighed. 

“So if Mr. Binley stole the car and drove wildly back to Melbourne he was probably running away. Leaves the question, from whom?” 

“I would assume the police.” Said Dottie, blushing furiously. Jack shook his head. She stood so far and quietly to the back, that he had almost forgotten that she was there. 

“Or possibly the killer if he has witnessed something.” 

Phryne chewed on her lips. Somehow she didn't like the idea, that Ryan should be the killer. He was a nice kid, with a real talent to flatter a lady. Then again, you could never tell. 

„If he witnessed the murder wouldn't he have left right afterwards though?” Pointed her companion out. The Inspector felt slightly left out of this conversation even though he had to admit that she was right. “But he waited till the body was found and the police arrived.” Miss Williams pondered.   
Jack stayed quiet and stared at his notepad. The rain against the window tapped into the resulting silence. Then the Detective cleared his throat. 

“Let's assume, Mr. Denier was knocked out in his sitting room. Then someone undressed him and dropped him into the lake -”

“Probably the killer, nobody else would feel compelled to clean up after him.” Hugh threw in, trying to join in somehow. 

“- to cover up what had happened.” Jack finished with a stern look in the direction of his Constable.   
“That means he would have to leave the clothes somewhere and possibly some other evidence.”   
“Could have been a robbery gone wrong.” Phryne speculated. “We need to find Ryan Binley. He either has done something or seen something.” 

“Well, the maid thinks our best chance is his mother, that lives in...” Jack studied his notes in fake interest...”Collingwood. That sounds like a job for you, Miss Fisher.” Phryne didn't miss the twinkle in his eye, before he got up. 

“And we, Collins, will try to find out how exactly our victim ended up in the lake. Even though every shred of evidence would be drenched by now. Talk to Simon Ellis again, I have a feeling he knows about everything that happens in this house.” 

After the Constable had left and Dorothy Williams had retreated so far that she almost blended into the wallpaper, the Inspector turned to Phryne. 

“Meet at your house tonight to share information?” He said quietly enough for only her to hear. He wasn't quite sure if he meant only the case. Also, it occurred to him briefly, it was a strange thing to say, facing the fact that he lived in her house nowadays. She grabbed his coat for a second to pull him closer and brushed a kiss over his left ear, whispering. 

“I like it when you go all authoritative, Jack.” 

With a mischief glitter in her eyes she bundled up her companion and pulled the door shut, before he had found time to blush. 

X

The roads were still wet, but that didn't keep Phryne Fisher from her usual disregard of the speed limits. Miss Williams couldn't help but find that a convertible really wasn't a good place to be in drizzly weather with a maniac driver at the wheel. She still felt a bit shaken after her close encounter this morning, but nevertheless would have traded her vehicle back to the police car at any time. But what gnawed on her even now, as she was trying to hold the hat to her head in a death grip, braving the little raindrops splattering her face at high speed, was the tension she had sensed between her employer and the Detective. Something was going on and while she wanted to believe in her heart of hearts, that Miss Phryne would never have a dalliance while Inspector Robinson waited at home for her, she knew as well as him that her bed had been untouched this morning. And what made it worse was, that Dot had been long enough with Miss Fisher to know when she was hiding something. There was a big “Something” that remained unsaid today. Dot didn't like what was happening, didn't like it at all. 

She had been so deeply in thought, that she was surprised as Miss Fisher pulled over and climbed out. The streets here were narrow, the rain still lightly falling onto the working-class cottages framing both sides of them, had been insufficient to sweep the stench away. 

“Burning leather.” Miss Fisher said, slamming the car door shut, as she noticed the face of her companion. 

Dorothy Williams tore her gaze from a factory chimney over which curled dark smoke and looked at her, not daring to ask what was happening in the head of her Mistress just now. She knew that Miss Fisher had grown up here and that her memories were mostly not happy ones. In fact, Phryne felt a dark weight creep into her stomach. It wasn't only being back here that caused it. Here, where the memories swept over her like old, bitter oil, she felt the day creeping under her skin: the crying Pauline whose pain she couldn't let disappear; Jack's distrust, that hurt, despite knowing how much she hadn't told him; Marcel's blue, naked body, the dead shell of the man she had once known; the charming stable hand with the sparkly brown eyes full of humour that might hang for his death; and as always Janey, her dear Janey, that had died for her. She had to fend off the urge to sit down in the gutter and cry. Instead, she shook her head, fished the address out of her handbag and ushered Dot to follow her, missing the worried look her companion threw her, completely on purpose. 

X

The little boats house lay quietly in the mist of the early evening as the police men approached. Jack had been right, Simon Ellis had been very helpful, including being able to answer where his master tended to undress when he went for his nightly swims. If the killer had disposed of the body here, everything pointed towards someone who had been for a round of skinny dipping with him before. The door was bolted from the inside and Collins decided to kick it out of its hinges. Jack watched him with tired eyes. He felt cold and weary. It had been a long day and he really just wanted to go home, have a hot bath and cuddle up to Phryne's warm body for some well deserved sleep. The case probably could wait till the morning and so could their chat. Briefly he wondered again if it was even wise to talk to her. He wasn't sure if he needed to hear what she would not say, maybe it was easier to leave things as they were. But Jack knew deep down that that wouldn't work. The Uncertainty would eat away at him, eventually turning his hurt to anger and his love to hate. Even if he handed her his heart to be broken, he needed to know where he stood. 

The door gave way with a shower of splintering wood and Jack stepped through the gap with fresh resolve on his mind. He would talk with her in the morning. Collins followed him with a lantern in his hand, shining little light onto the sparse furniture. Near the dark waters that harbored two boats, there was a neatly folded pile of clothes besides two equally neatly set down shoes and a watch. It did look indeed like someone had been going for a swim. Jack knelt down beside his victims clothes, ran his fingers over the expensive fabric of the shirt. So his murderer was a very clever man... or possibly a woman. He suspected that skinny dipping was not a habit, Marcel Denier shared a lot with other men, but a “ladies man” surely would invite his female friends to his “wild and romantic” activities. Then again, a woman would probably not have the strength... A tiny blemish in the fabric caught his eye. 

“Collins, get me some light here.” 

Obediently the Constable stepped closer and bent over to hold his lantern for his higher ranking officer. He watched on as Detective-Inspector Robinson ran his fingers over a small red stain, mumbling something to himself under his breath. Then to Hugh's pure astonishment, he pulled the fabric to his nose to smell it before suddenly getting up, nearly knocking the young police man over in the process and then, the shirt still in hand and a half-hearted order to secure the evidence on his lips, stormed out into the dusk.


	8. Sunset

Her knock seemed to go unheard. It occurred to Phryne that attempting this in a glittering blue evening robe might not be quite appropriate. Then again, nothing stashed into her wardrobe would be really fitting here. The smell of burning leather had only gone stronger, hinting at the fact, that the Binleys probably weren't rich people. The crumbling stonework also didn't hide the shortage of money in this house. One could probably be tempted if confronted with a place like the Denier Estate, the lady detective mused quietly, when there was finally some shuffling from the inside of the little cottage. An elder lady opened the door, at least that's what Phryne thought. On her second look she realised that Mrs. Binley couldn't be much more than 50. But her hair was grey, her do loosened up in the way it would after a long day of physical labour, if it wasn't done in perfect fashion to start with. Her dress was the familiar shapeless and colourless cotton and her attitude pure Collingwood. 

“What d' ya want?” She mumbled under her breath. 

Phryne Fisher switched on her brightest smile. 

“Good evening, Mrs. Binley.” 

She made a point of extending her gloved hand for the woman to shake, which her opposite did after a moment of wide eyed hesitance. 

“We were wondering, Mrs. Binley...” She said, pushing past the woman into he house, were the stench was almost unbearable, “...if you have seen your son lately? Ryan went missing today and his employers are worried.” 

Phryne let her eyes sweep over the room, she could not see anything suspicious. No men's clothes, only one plate on the table. Maybe they had been wrong. 

“Haven't seen Ryan in weeks.” Mrs. Binley grumbled. That was her mistake. No mother sounded like that when her son had gone missing without a trace. Phryne locked eyes with her. Especially not, while her face betrayed her fear for the kid. Miss Fisher's smile faded but she made sure to put all the patience and understanding in her voice she could muster, when she stepped towards the elder woman. 

“Mrs. Binley, I don't want Ryan to get into any more trouble, but I need to know where he is. He might be in danger.” 

She could see the emotions working on Mrs. Binleys face. She must have once been a very pretty woman, before life took that away from her. Phryne swallowed. Life wasn't a fair game partner. Finally, the dices seemed to have fallen, with a weak gesture Mrs. Bingley pointed to the only other door in the kitchen and stepped aside. Gently, the lady detective pushed it open; it lead into a bedroom. A gush of cold, wet wind blew into her face, as hasty steps outside vanished into the evening. Phryne ran over to the open window but she only spotted a glimpse of the young man vanishing around a corner. She had come a moment too late. Deflating, Miss Fisher closed the window, when something gleaming caught her eye. She knelt down and fished the string of pearls from the mouldering floor boards. 

“I think we have our thief.” She said to Dot, who had quietly stepped behind her. It held no triumph.

X 

Constable Collins was not a happy man right now. The Inspector had in his haste, left him behind without a car and he had depended on Pauline Deniers kindness to be driven back to the station. And if that was not embarrassing enough, he had stepped into a puddle waiting on the car and his right shoe was still dripping. He was cold, annoyed and miserable. Most of all though, he was sure, that something was going on behind his back. He could sense Dotties worry and the Inspector was behaving oddly. Miss Fisher was... well, Miss Fisher. Nothing seemed to ever shake her. With a bit more harshness than necessary, Hugh smacked his Hat onto the counter besides the collected evidence. He seriously doubted, that a pair of expensive shoes would help them any further in this case but then again, the shirt seemed to have stirred something in the Inspectors memory. Once again Hugh wondered just what had brought about his sudden disapperance. But it appeared to have become a habit for the Inspector to always run off here and there, chase after the killer with Miss Fisher or persuit Miss Fisher in a race against the killer, without leaving his Constable so much as a note to make sure he could follow. Hugh Collins sat down onto one of the hard wooden chairs owned by the City South Police station and steamed in his anger about the unfairness of it all. His shift had long since ended but the thought of heading home didn't seem particularly tempting right now. On the other hand he was quite sure, there was still a waterlevel in his left boot. In his musing, he didn't see her enter. Collins jumped when Annabel Sinclair set her bag down and said:

“Good evening, Constable.“ 

It took him a moment to regain his breath and wits enough to return her greeting. 

“I would like to report something else on the murder of Marcel Denier.“ She explained, her face serious. „My husband didn't want me to say, but I caught him with one of the guests last night. In a...“ Mrs. Sinclair had the decency to blush; “...rather compromising situation.” 

X

Miss Fisher longed for sleep. No, a hot bath and then some sleep. Preferably within the arms of a handsome policeman. She wasn't quite sure if that was an option tonight, however. While Jack had been mostly busy finding a murderer, while still setting aside time for some polite smiling and flirting, she had sensed the tension between them. Phryne was well aware that she needed to clear the air. But it was incredibly hard in the middle of a case with people all around and the truth was, she really wasn't that good at open conversation. Maybe she should wait till they had found Marcel's killer. She wasn't quite convinced she wanted to live that long without his arms around herself, though. How needy she had become, she huffed silently, pushing her bedroom door open and feeling for the light switch. While her surprise was immense when she found Jack Robinson sitting at the end of her bed, she hid it quickly. 

“Jack, you're earlier than I expected! I assume you found something of interest?” Phryne said with more enthusiasm than she felt. Her heart was beating in her chest. This didn't bode well. He raised his eyes to look at her and the unconcealed pain that shone through, threatened to take her breath away. To her surprise he held out a white piece of fabric he had been cradling on his lap. 

“You tell me, Phryne.” 

She took it. Turned it. Looked at him in astonishment. 

“It's Marcel Deniers shirt.” He stated dryly, watching her every move. “And that on his collar is your lipstick. It also smells of your perfume. Is there anything you want to say about this?”


	9. Thunderstorm and Lightning

Something strange had happened to the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher, as she stood in her bedroom, holding the shirt of a dead man and looking at the one that held her heart, seemingly without knowing it. She had lost her ability to speak. Surely, she could have told him that it wasn't the way it looked, but then again that was the oldest excuse in the world and not something she was going to say to Jack. And why was she even feeling the need to explain herself to him, a hot tempered voice in her head asked. That turned out to be a rather simple question to answer. Jack Robinson was at the worst of times an upright man, even disheveled, tired, angry, wounded or crying he had always held a certain look of pride. Right now he sat, kneading his hands on his lap, his eyes half closed, radiating agony. She wanted to comfort him, touch him, say the right words to soothe his pain away, but her legs wouldn't move. And her tongue still refused service. In uncomfortable silence she watched him pull himself up and turn his steps to the door without so much as looking at her. 

“Goodnight, Miss Fisher.”

Something in his voice broke the spell. 

“He tried to kiss me.” 

Jack's hand froze on the way to the handle, but he didn't turn around. 

“And knowing you, Miss Fisher, you struggled immensely.” The Detective said after a second of silence, anger replacing the uncried tears in his tone. 

“In fact I did, Jack.” She stated coldly and sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing her arms over her chest. She watched him spin around to face her, his eyes dark in a mixture of rage and surprise. 

“I believe your coroner will find a distinctive bruise on his left shin in about the shape of my heel.” 

Phryne had to hide a smile, when she watched him open and close his mouth like a stranded fish. Jack licked his lips suddenly feeling very, very tired. Suspecting that Phryne might have been in someone else's arms last night had been hurtful, but the certainty he had experienced since finding Denier's shirt had turned out to be near unbearable. The conclusion that he might have been wrong held not as much relief as he'd hoped. Though of course, there was a chance that she could be lying. He felt drained and exhausted and still irate. It didn't help, that she decided to just now get up and close the gap between them. When she reached out to touch him he flinched away. 

“Why haven't you told me?” He heard himself ask, his voice rough and coloured with suppressed anger, staring into her eyes that started to fill with emotions of her own. 

“Because I knew how you would react, Jack.” Her blue eyes glittered dangerously up at him.

“Because I do not need you to be a jealous lover right now. I need you to be Inspector Robinson, the smartest policeman in this city who can find the murderer of my friend's husband.” 

Her words vexed him beyond comprehension. How could she dare belittle his pain, manipulate him, lie to him? He leaned forward, annoyance clouding his face. She didn't back down one inch.

Glittered back at him with so much rage that he almost, but not quite, managed to ignore the smell of her skin, the heat radiating from her body. His voice vibrated with anger. 

“You do not get to choose who I am, Miss Fisher!” 

She closed the last centimeters between them, now almost touching him as she answered in a quiet growl. 

“Then maybe you should choose yourself to not be an ass.” 

They stared at each other, a quiet stand off. Jack could feel his stomach flip, his heart pound in his ears as a red heat spread through him, that might or might not have been rage. Then he reached out, grabbing her with more violence than he had ever shown her and pulling her hot body to his own, bringing his lips down onto hers. Whatever protest she might have uttered died in a wild, messy kiss made of clashing teeth and wrestling tongues. Phryne Fisher briefly wondered if she had ended up in a Penny Dreadful after all, before she ceased to think and pushed the Inspector hard against the wooden door in his back, starting to undo his shirt with trashing fingers that sent more buttons flying than they opened. The overwhelming urge to feel him close that had haunted her all day, broke through all her resolves, her anger and the unsaid things standing between them and made her press herself against all warm, soft skin that she could free from clothes in a hurry, while she latched onto his neck, tearing a desperate groan from his throat. The sound did nothing to calm her raging temper. Neither did his hands that roughly, but still with a gentleness that was Jack Robinson, ran over her back, or the feel of his responding body against her own, still separated by way too many layers. Her hands went to his belt buckle which seemed to wake Jack from whatever sphere he had been floating in, to realise that once again Phryne had taken the lead in this. In a sudden movement, he pushed himself away from the door and spun them, crashing her body against the wood. For a shocking, long second she looked at him in surprise, then she gave him a tiny smile that let him release the breath he was holding. Jack grabbed her wrists, pulling them over her head to get away from her restless fingers before kissing her again, running his lips down her chin and neck to the edge of her dress. When he nipped at the tender skin just above her breasts she moaned with closed eyes, pushing her hips against him. Jack took this as an invitation and bit gently into her shoulder, making her squirm under his searching hand. Just when he had resolved to just rip her dress at the seams, he found a button that miraculously undid the drapes and let them fall in an elegant heap to the floor. He let his eyes flicker down her now mostly exposed body before catching her gaze again, without releasing her arms. The lust in her hooded blue eyes threatened to overwhelm him. Panting, he reached out and ran a gentle hand down along her frame till he reached her breast. When the tip of his thumb brushed over her nipple, she gasped, arching her back. This caused his last defense to crumble. With a passion and possessiveness that he didn't know he held, he pressed her against himself trying to feel her as close as possible, crawl under her skin and let them melt together, so he could never lose her again. Phryne sensed the shift in Jack's mood from anger to desperation, felt his need to be with her, inside of her. Gently she manoeuvred them to the bed, without breaking the contact she so urgently needed herself, till his legs gave way under him and they crashed onto the sheets. That didn't seem to stop him, he dragged her on top of himself, grabbing her head and pulling her into another passionate kiss that took her breath away. With shaking hands she finally managed to open his belt, struggling him out of his pants while never releasing his lips. He looked into her eyes and holding her tightly to himself, flipped them once again. Phryne forgot to breath when he moved, clutching onto his back with all the desperation the day had brought. It wasn't gentle, or tender, or loving what they did but it was needed. And as they reached climax in not quite perfect harmony, their tensions melted away - At least for one ecstatic moment. 

X

She awoke when he sat down at the edge of the bed to put his shoes on. It took only a fraction of a moment for Miss Fisher to realise what had happened. In the light of the passionate things they had done to each other, it surprised her even more to see the Inspector getting dressed in the middle of the night. She pulled herself into a half sitting position, modestly covering her chest with the sheet, even though he was the only one to see her. 

“Jack, where are you going?”

He started. 

“Home.” He finally said simply. 

“Do I go right in the assumption that you do not mean your bedroom down the hall?” Phryne asked, trying to hide her emotion. The moonlight fell onto the Inspectors serious face, highlighting the thoughtful crease between his brows. 

“I’m sorry. I need to go.” He finally whispered. It wasn't good enough. Phryne choked the tears back, that threatened to give her away. So this was her punishment. Jack sensed her distress, but he knew he couldn't comfort her. It would have left him unable to do what needed to be done. 

“I can't be living with a suspect in my case, Phryne.” He tried to explain, getting up. 

DI Robinson left the other reasons for his decision unsaid. His head was still spinning with all the experiences of the gone day, he needed time to sort through them. Jack had never considered himself a violent man, the thought to force himself upon a woman had never as much as occurred to him and yet, that was what he had almost done. Of course, Phryne hadn't exactly objected and deep in his heart the Inspector knew that his self-control would never have slipped enough to continue if she had as much as batted his hands away. But nevertheless he had lost control and he found himself scared as to how desperately he was attached to her. Her alarmed voice tore him from his thoughts. 

“A suspect? You can't seriously believe I killed Marcel!” 

Despite his best intentions, he reached out his hand to cup her cheek. She let him, even though he could feel the tension in her muscles, ready to jump. 

“Of course I don't think that. But a whole room has watched you dance with Mr. Denier last night, flirt with him...” She tensed even more. “...and you harmed him physically, the same night he died.” She had dropped her sheet in anger, but Jack had no head right now for the physical urges that asked for his attention. 

“He tried to force a kiss on me!”

He shook his head slowly, trying to make her understand that he didn't blame her for this, but he still needed her to see reason. 

“I know, but that's not the point. If the judge realises that I lived with one of the suspects, it could compromise the whole case, Phryne. The murderer could walk or worse, someone innocent could go to prison.” 

Phryne Fisher tried to find truth in the Inspectors dark eyes and did so. It suddenly occurred to her, that he wasn't punishing her at all. He was trying to protect her. And nevertheless, she felt his loss desperately as he pulled back his hand and closed the door behind himself with one last look. That night she decided that it was time to be a woman and cried herself to sleep.


	10. High Sun

Inspector Robinson was not overly surprised, when Phryne Fisher wandered into the South City Police Station shortly after 12 o'clock the next day, a basket hanging of her arm that she set down on his desk before slipping onto a chair.

Around three this morning, staring sleeplessy onto the dark ceiling of his old bedroom, Jack had realised that he had no doubts about her honesty at all. Logic demanded this much. Miss Fisher was too smart a woman to assume that she could lie to him about something regarding his case and also: she had never hidden her flings before. But the strongest reason to believe her was simply that he wanted to. They had shared a deep trust for a long time, possibly even more sincere than their love for each other. If there was any person in the world in whose hands he would lie his life willingly, it would have to be hers. So to question her word would be simply ridiculous. He might as well start to mistrust his picture in the mirror. 

“I am quite certain, I told you to stay away from this case.“ The Inspector said for good measure, finding trouble to hide the humour in his voice. 

She smiled at him innocently and cocked her head, while pushing the basket in front of him that smelled of heavenly things probably made my Miss Williams loving hands. 

“You said you couldn't live under a suspects roof. However, there can hardly be an objection to you questioning a suspect in your office, I'm sure.” 

“Well put, Miss Fisher.“ He liftet the cloth covering his lunch, keeping his face as straight as humanly possible. It took quite some effort to accomplish. 

“So, Jack, can we be friends again, if I tell you everything about Marcel Denier and myself?“   
He tore himself away from the food and leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. 

“I wasn't aware there was an everything to be told.” 

He searched her eyes, humour suddenly gone. More secrets? She took a deep breath, seemingly collecting her thoughts. 

“What if I told you that I have known Marcel not since I got back to Australia, but since the summer of 1920?” 

Jack nodded darkly, not saying a word. 

“It was shortly after Paris, I had ended up in a small village in the Normandy. I happened to befriend Pauline Beaumont. She was the daughter of a tradesman, quite influential family, but the war hadn't left them with overly much. Mind you, still a lot more than most people had at the time.”  
Miss Fisher locked eyes with the Inspector, who was hanging on her lips in silence. What she saw appeared to be satisfactory as she continued after a small pause. 

“At a dinner party we were introduced to Marcel Denier. He had been a charmer, didn't own more than he was wearing on his body but knew how to smile at a lady.”

Jack couldn't help the temptation to clear his throat. He felt a silent stab of completely unreasonable jealousy to a dead man who had been charming Phryne Fisher nine years ago. She seemed oblivious, save for a tiny sparkle in her eyes, as she twisted her lips into a cheeky smile.   
“He was already fond of moonlight bathing back then.” 

“I assume you experienced that first hand.” He stated dryly. 

“Yes, I did. It was fun. A little cold maybe.” 

Miss Fisher snapped out of happy memories just as Jack opened his mouth to speak. He was cut off, before he could utter a word. 

“And before you even ask, it was only a casual fling. After Dubois I was not interested in love and Marcel definitely wasn't the settling kind. Or so I thought. Because two month later he was married to dear Pauline.”

The Detective-Inspector picked up a pencil, twisted it in his hands, trying to sort his thoughts.   
“So, it is safe to assume that Mr. Denier skinny dipped not only with you but also with his wife-to-be at the same time. Does she know?” 

Phryne shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I do not know if Marcel has ever shared this with her. I never kiss and tell. Unless it's murder.”   
He couldn't help but reflect her smile on his own face. 

“Collins?”

Seconds later, another Constable showed in the door, his face red with embarrassment.   
“Sorry, Sir, Collins is on late shift today.”

“So he is, Jones. Could you please call in Mrs. Denier for questioning. Thank you.” 

Phryne waited till the door was pulled closed behind the Officer. Then she shared last nights events in Collingwood with the Inspector. 

“Ryan Binley is our man, there's little doubt about it.” She finished, peeling the pearls out of her handbag. “But I wonder how he could have known about Marcel's swimming habits? About the safe, the goblet? As a stable hand he wouldn't have exactly spent a lot of time inside that part of the house.” 

Jack nodded thoughtfully, cracking the pencil in half. He dropped it. 

“So he had an accomplice. Someone who collected all the information, so he just had to go and pick the valuables like pieces of ripe fruit of a tree.” 

“Hasn't there been a strain of robberies lately?”

“Yes, the West Station is actually investigating. But I will call them and find out if there are similarities. Maybe one of our guests is a travelling thief.” 

A knock ripped them from their conversation. Constable Collins didn't wait till he was called. 

“Sir, did you find my notes?”

“Good afternoon to you, too, Constable. What notes?”

“Mrs. Sinclair was here last night, Sir. She had some information on our case.” 

They waited, but the younger policeman seemed to be finished. 

“Are you intending to share said information, Collins?” Asked the Inspector finally. 

“I'm sorry, Sir, I've written it all down.” 

A inpatient look left the Constable stumbling over his words.” 

“Miss White... Miss White, Sir, and our victim. They were, on the night of the celebration... together sir.” 

X

“You wouldn't happen to know, where the left over pie from last night has gone, Dorothy?” 

Dot didn't look up from rolling out her shortbread dough, yet again. She really needed to get done with this, if she wanted to supply anything into this Sundays bake sale still. 

“Miss Fisher took it, while you were out shopping. I believe she's making amends.” She whispered with a smile, embarrassed to be gossiping, but nevertheless needing to share the information. Mr. Butler grinned into the refrigeration machine and closed it gently. 

“Is she now? I am glad to hear it.” 

Miss Williams stopped, rolling pin in hand. 

“Do you think, they will figure it out, Mr. Butler?” 

The servant picked up a knife, starting to slice carrots into thin rounds for a stew, he suspected the Inspector to be particularly fond of. It never hurt to be prepared. 

“They are a pair of very smart people, Dorothy. But also two very strong characters. They will find a way, given time.” 

Dot nodded and they resumed their work in companionable silence. Only the quiet noise of splitting carrot filled the kitchen. 

“He couldn't stay, Miss Phryne said, while investigating in this murder.” Dot added thoughtfully in direction of her flat dough, of course just to make conversation. 

“Is that the reason then?” 

Dot didn't need to look up to know that the Butler was smiling. 

“I rather hope the Detective-Inspector will find the killer soon then, because this morning I wasted ten minutes of my time knocking down the door to an empty bedroom.” 

With considerable noise Mr. Butler fished a rather large pot out of the kitchen cabinet. Dottie Williams watched him, chewing on her lip. Then a smile lit up her face. 

“You're right, Mr. Butler. It is time we find the killer.” She took her apron off and hung it onto the nearest hook. 

“And how do you intend to accomplish that, Dorothy, if you don't mind me asking?” The Butler asked, seemingly casual, while busying himself with the rest of the vegetables. 

“I believe it is time for some Christian charity, Mr. Butler.” 

With that, the maid was gone. The servant looked thoughtfully down at the shortbread dough still sticking to his kitchen table, then he picked up his knife and started cutting it into even pieces, a little whistled tune on his lips.


	11. Calm Sea

“I really am not sure, what Annabel believes she has seen. But nothing of the sort happened last night between Marcel and me.” 

Marie White was a real beauty in the light of the day. Today she was wearing a rather stunning combination in a dark glimmering green, that made her eyes look like the ones of a very spoiled cat. The Detective-Inspector realised, that he was staring and cleared his throat. 

“So what exactly did happen to your memory, Miss White?” 

She grabbed for her cigarettes, but dropped them on a slight shake of his head. 

“We danced together, Marcel was quite drunk. He asked to show me something. I didn't think much of it, since he was always rather... How should I say? Friendly. So I agreed to come to his sitting room and have a look at this Egyptian cup of his and when we walked down the hall, he suddenly had his hands all over me.” She huffed. “And of course just in that second the stupid cow needed to wander along and pull the wrong conclusions.” 

Jack nodded. He had watched Marcel Denier flirting with about every lady in the full ball room over the hours on Thursday night, including Phryne and Marie White. And after the conversation with Miss Fisher he wasn't surprised that Denier hadn't waited for an invitation here either. 

“So, what happened then?”

“Mrs. Sinclair's appearance startled him somewhat and I was able to slip away. Please, Inspector, can we keep this silent? I wouldn't want to worry my fiancè.“

“I'm afraid that won't be possible, Miss White. I will have to ask Mr. Price the same questions. The man who tried to force himself on you, was killed last night. He has a motive.” 

And I would congratulate him, a deeper, darker part of Jack thought. If he had caught Marcel with his dirty fingers on Phryne, he wasn't sure just what he would have done. Marie White appeared to be thinking along similar lines, as she leaned over the desk conspiratorially, showing a lot more of her décolletage than the policeman had wished to see and said in a tone that expressed deepest sympathy: “I am sorry to say this, Inspector, but, there was someone else, he was heavily flirting with. And I wouldn't be surprised if he tried his luck on her either. I believe, he might even have succeeded.” 

The Inspector played along. On second thought, she didn't remind him all that much of Miss Fisher. 

X

The cab rolled to a slow halt in front of the cottage.   
“You sure you wanna do this?” Asked Bert, a hint of worry in his voice.   
“Very much.” Nodded Dot Williams and climbed out of the car, before pulling a basket from the back seat that would have reminded an attentive observer quite a lot of the one that was currently hidden under the Inspectors desk at the City South Police Station. It held a lot less refined groceries in this case, but nevertheless it would fill an empty stomach. With resolve in her step, Dottie marched up to the wooden door she had stood in front the night before and knocked. With bated breath she waited, hoping to god, that Mrs. Binley would not be at work. Her prayers were answered, when a head appeared. The grey do was slightly less disheveled than yesterday and recognition lit the worn face for the split of a second, before she grumbled something that could have been a question. 

“Mrs. Binley” Dottie said, in her best good catholic girl voice. “After I was here last night I realised that you might appreciate a helping hand and so I went to my church and collected some little things for you. Just a bit of cake, some eggs, tea, freshly baked bread...” She lifted the covering clothes to let the smell waft under the woman's nose. It seemed to soothe her suspicion somewhat. 

“I also brought some fire wood, a kind donation from the convent of Marymead” She said conversationally, waving Cec to bring in the goods. God would surely forgive her the lies, at least Miss Williams hoped so dearly. After all she was doing a good thing, wasn't she? Mrs. Binley waved the young Cabbie through into her kitchen with a generous gesture. Dottie stepped in right behind him, chattering friendly along with the overwhelmed lady and plotting in her pretty head, just how to find out what she needed to know. 

X

Jack Robinson had little success in hiding a smile as Phryne Fisher slipped back into his office from the neighboring interview room, in which she had spent the last half hour, surely not in the slightest bit listening into his conversation with Marie White. 

“You do call interesting people your friends, Miss Fisher.” He teased, as she fell onto a chair with a sigh. 

“Marie is not a friend, Jack. She is an acquaintance. And she obviously thinks I might have had an affair with Marcel, which shows some imagination.” 

She searched for the Inspectors eyes and to her relief found neither doubt nor jealousy there.   
“I rather believe she was trying to lead me down the wrong track.” He said instead, folding his hands on his desk. 

“Which means, she doesn't want you to follow the right one.” 

“You think David Price murdered Denier?”

She pondered this, pulling her red lips into something reminding him of a pout. 

“It's an option. But he doesn't strike me as the murder-of-passion type.” She finally offered. 

“He doesn't strike me as someone overly passionate about anything much.” 

They locked eyes over the desk, both remembering the last night with sudden vivid clarity. Jack felt his ears turn hot. 

Once again they were interrupted by a knock at the door. 

“The Coroners report, Sir.” 

Collins waved a brown file and withdrew quickly after handing it over. Getting between those fronts was none of his intention. 

“Now let's see what we have.” The DI mumbled, flicking through the pages. “In the water overnight, strong bleeding head wound caused by a blunt object... well this is interesting.”   
He slapped down the paper in front of Miss Fisher. 

“There was water and algae found not only in his lungs, but also his stomach.” 

Phryne read this again and let the information sink in before she looked at Jack with big eyes. 

“So he did drown after all. He was still alive when he was thrown into the lake!” 

X

Outside at the desk Hugh Collins had just finished a phone call. His fellow Constable at the City West Station had turned out to be a quite nice fellow, who had promised to send over copies of the files straight away. It occurred to the young policeman that it was a little odd they would give up their information so readily, but then again, the robberies had shaken high society for months and the investigation stalled. They probably had Sanderson breathing down their neck and would be happy to find someone else to blame. 

His stomach growled and Hugh wondered briefly, if he could ask the Inspector to drop out for a quick lunch, even though he hadn't been here long yet. Robinson's office lay in unusual silence, but Miss Fisher was still in there and they hadn't started throwing things yet. There was hope. It wasn't quite what Hugh had expected, after hearing from Dottie the news of the Inspectors sudden disappearance from the Fisher household during their shared morning walk. And even less, when Jones had gossiped about Robinson showing late for his shift, looking like he hadn't slept at all. No, it was probably best if he post phoned his lunch till things settled. The Constable tried his best to ignore his stomach, which protested that thought vehemently. 

When Dorothy Williams pushed through the door just seconds later, thing looked up. But she didn't seem to have bothered with food for him. Instead she radiated excitement, like a kid who had just found the doll under the Christmas tree it had been hoping for all year. 

“Is Miss Fisher still here?” She panted, not bothering with a greeting. 

“In with the Detective-Inspector.” The Constable informed her, not sure if to be offended by her ignorance of his needs. Dottie snuck a look through the crack in the brown door. The Inspector and her Mistress were sitting in companionable conversation over a pile of paperwork. Dot breathed a sigh of relief. Then she raised her hand and knocked. Two pairs of eyes looked a her startled. The companion cleared her throat. 

“I am sorry to interrupt, but I think I might have found Mr. Binley.”


	12. Heat of the Day

Miss Williams told them everything that had happened, which wasn't all that much. She had shared a surprisingly good cup of tea and a piece of a cake that would not be donated into the bake sale after all, with Mrs. Binley and had listened while she talked about her work, her hard life and mostly and foremost, her son. It had been just little stories about his childhood, when he had hidden small lizards in his sister Anna's bed, back when she had still been alive. Anna Binley had died two years ago at the birth of her first child and Dot had sacrificed one of her best handkerchiefs to the tears in Mrs. Binleys eyes at the memory. 

“I thought after Jimmy didn't return from the war, nothing worse could happen. Turns out I was wrong.” She'd said, getting up to stir a pot on the fire. Dot had stayed silent drowning in compassion for the other woman. 

“And now Ryan's gonna head for the lockup. Or get shot on the run.” Mrs. Binley had mused miserably. “Tell me, Miss Williams, why does God hate us so much?” 

Dot had flinched at this. She wondered sometimes just how God could let all of this happen. But then she was only human, surely she wasn't meant to understand his ways. 

“I don't believe he does, Mrs. Binley.” She'd heard herself say. “I think he loves you and Ryan very much and maybe that's why he sent me and Miss Fisher here to help.” 

The sincerity in her own voice had surprised her. It was probably quite pretentious to call youself a tool of god's will and Dorothy still was not sure if she would tell her priest about this. But nevertheless she'd felt that Miss Fisher was the best chance Ryan had for a fair treatment. Mrs. Binley had answered with silence, stirring quietly in a brown soup that might or might not have had edible contents floating in it. 

“When they were kids, Anna and Ryan often played on the rooftop of the 'Garner's' shoe factory.” She had finally spoken to nobody in particular. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Binley.” Had Dorothy said with relief, before hurrying out into the fresh air of the Australien afternoon. 

Now she finished her story, leaving out the part where she had considered briefly to head to the factory herself. Miss Fisher surely would have, but then again, she wasn't Miss Fisher and she didn't own a gun either. She was only Miss Williams, assistant sleuth and...

“You are a treasure, Dot.” Miss Fisher exclaimed and hugged her companion to herself tightly. The 'treasure' was unable to keep the proud grin from spreading over her face while her employer was already fishing for her handbag. 

“And where are you thinking you're going, Miss Fisher?“ Interrupted the Inspector the happy moment. 

“We, Jack, are going to the shoe factory of course. Come along.“ 

He grabbed her arm and spun her. 

“Miss Fisher, I told you, you need to stay out of this. Besides, factories are a dangerous playground. On a rooftop nevertheless, with a criminal.” 

Miss Williams knew that he was thinking of her little adventure as a tea lady and dropped her gaze. That had been quite frightening, another reason why she would not go without help. 

“Oh don't be a spoil sport, Jack. You suspecting me in the murder, not the robbery, so finding Ryan Binley is a completely separate case.” 

Phryne pulled free of the Inspectors rather gentle grip. He sighed. 

“Alright, Collins, we are heading...”

The Constables head appeared before the higher ranking officer managed to finish the sentence.   
“Sir, there is Mrs. Denier out here. She says she was asked in for questioning?” 

“Looks like it's just you and me then, Dot.” Phryne grinned, a familiar look of lust for adventure appearing on her features. “Inspector.” 

She swept out avoiding the protest that would surely come, followed by an apologetic Miss Williams. DI Jack Robinson sat back down, capitulating to the fact that he was in love with an insane woman. 

Only moments later Pauline Denier was led into the room. She did, Jack noticed, look remarkably different than the day before and not only because her tears had dried. Instead of the rather forced look of perfection she had donned on the morning her husband had died, her hair now fell in soft curves under a fashionable hat and her dress was actually flattering her frame. He couldn't help but wonder if the death of her husband hadn't turned out to be quite as despairing as first thought. After all he had heard about Marcel Denier in the last two days it wouldn't have surprised him, but that did give her a quite strong motive to rid herself of him. The Inspector offered her a chair and she sat down, her handbag clutched to herself. 

“I am actually glad you called, Inspector or I would have had to call myself.” She said before he could get a word in edge wise. She fished in her handbag for a crumpled envelope that she handed over to the policeman. 

“Berta found this this morning in a pair of Marcel's trousers.” 

Jack unfolded the paper carefully and ran his eyes over the page. 

“This is a letter of blackmail, Mrs. Denier.” 

“So it is. I do not recognise the hand though, I'm afraid.” 

The Inspector looked up from studying the rather messy curls of ink. 

“You are aware that you are handing me evidence here that strengthens your own motive?”  
At this, Mrs. Denier all but laughed out loud. 

“Me? Kill Marcel. Sorry to disappoint, Inspector, but I happened to be quite fond of him.”   
To his questioning look she continued.

“I've had long since resigned myself to the fact that I have a philandering husband, Inspector. He had other, better sides to himself, he was a loving companion in many ways, but this was his weakness. Some people just need their freedom I assume and you have to give it to them in order to keep them.”   
The Inspector felt as if his suspect had turned the tables and looked right through him. He swallowed. So this was how she saw his relationship with Miss Fisher. She was the bird that he tried to cage, knowing that she could pick the lock. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms protectively over his chest in an effort to keep Mrs. Denier out of his private business. 

“But despite your nonchalance someone thought it to be wise to blackmail your husband with an affair, Mrs. Denier?” 

“Marcel would not have worried about me. However, he did have some influence in the city and I'm sure neither of us would have liked to see the pictures popping up in the papers.”   
“Pictures?” Jack uttered, astounded. 

“They should be...” To his growing surprise, Pauline started riffling through her handbag again, producing two creased photographs. “I'm sorry, I must have not put them back in the envelope.”   
Jack released them from her hands, involuntarily holding his breath. They didn't show the woman he had been expecting. 

X

 

Dorothy followed her Mistress with bated breath as they snuck up the old iron stairs. She wasn't particularly comfortable between all the heavy machinery. Too close a call had been her almost-demise by the hands of a crazed factory worker some time in the past. But this was how her life was nowadays, she went were the case and Miss Fisher led her. Dot swallowed and tried to keep pace. In truth, she wouldn't have given it up for the world. As the steps flew by, both women tried to not pay much mind to the rust that seemed to cover them. Dying by falling off a crumbling staircase was not an option. Finally they reached the sunlight through a small gap. Miss Williams saw him first. Ryan Binley was sitting at the edge of the rooftop, looking over the city, while absent-mindedly playing with something that glittered suspiciously. She tried to get the attention of Miss Fisher who was blinking into the bright sun. Her quiet hiss was not quiet enough, as their suspect suddenly turned his head before jumping up, terror painted on his face. 

“Ryan, stop.” Yelled Phryne. “We are here to help you.” 

This obviously didn't convince the thief. He started running towards the maze of chimneys at the other end of the roof. Phryne chased after him, Dot close behind her. The young man vanished somewhere between the red brick. 

“We just want to talk to you. Please come out.” Miss Fisher panted, grabbing for her gun. She didn't know if he was armed, but he seemed desperate and she wouldn't be taking any chances. “Ryan, you have nowhere to go. Come out.”

With growing tension, Miss Fisher nodded for Dot to stay back and entered the chaos of chimneys, carefully maneuvering her heels over the rusty junk littering the floor. Her gun glittered in her outstretched hand. Both women were holding their breath while she cleared chimney after chimney. Phryne started to wonder if there might have been another exit after all when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. Ryan darted past her, brushing roughly against the lady detectives shoulder, causing her a moment of confusion before she ran after him. Dot had spotted the events and flew towards him from the other side, cutting off his path. Binley stopped suddenly, trying to change direction when his foot got caught on a rusty piece of pipe. Time seemed to slow down as he stumbled backwards and in surprising silence, fell over the edge of the roof.


	13. Starry Night

Mr. Butler breathed a sigh of relief, when a polite knock rang at the door the same evening. He pulled the same open to the familiar face of the Inspector with more enthusiasm than his job description demanded, before taking Jack Robinson's hat and coat, wondering if it was in order to announce someone who technically, if not practically, slept upstairs. The detective took the decision from his hands by stepping into the parlour with not a moment of hesitation. 

Inspector Robinson found Phryne in a excited conversation with Elisabeth Macmillan and regret instantly having barged into her home without an announcement. On his appearance she jumped up, her eyes lighting up in something very akin to happiness. Mac threw him a look that told him he was paddling in dangerous waters and the shark had taken notice. He had no time however to feel threatened, as Phryne latched onto him. 

“Jack, how nice to see you. We do have news..” 

“So do I, Miss Fisher, so do I.”

He decided to sit down, before Mac could manage to stare a hole into his forehead and chose the chair furthest away from her reach. Phryne handed him a glass of Whiskey unasked for and slipped back onto the love seat. 

“Do tell, Inspector. What new twists have presented themselves?” 

She seemed awfully smug, but he decided to not worry about this and took a gulp of the expensive, amber liquid, before explaining, what had happened this afternoon. 

“Turns out, someone was trying to blackmail the deceased.” Jack said, drawing out the moment. “He did have an affair and there were some rather graphic...” He swallowed another sip, letting the Whiskey burn hot paths down his throat. “...pictures.” 

Miss Fisher had perked up at this. 

“Marie?”

He shook his head slowly. 

“That's what I thought at first, but the proof lies in the photographs, I'm afraid.” 

The Inspector pulled the creased paper out of his breast pocket. The way her eyes widened in shock, was worth every second of this little game. 

“Annabel?” 

“I was not yet able to get a hold of Mrs. Sinclair for questioning, but her relationship with Marcel Denier seems rather obvious, I would think.” 

With a frown, Phryne handed the pictures back to the Inspector. 

“We are getting to the point where every male guest in that room has motive to kill the man.“ 

“So it seems, Miss Fisher.” 

“Any indication on who the blackmailer is?”

“None.” 

The Inspector slipped the photographs back into his pocket without breaking eye contact with his lover. His look told a silent story of one of the male guests who would have loved to get a chance to strangle Marcel Denier, if he himself hadn't been quite so upright. The noise of a throat being cleared interrupted their quiet conversation.   
“Not that I want to spoil your little moment there, but I do think you should share your own news with the Inspector, Phryne.” Mac cut in, in a warning tone of voice. DI Robinson raised an eyebrow.  
Phryne smiled. 

“We found our thief.” 

“Since I didn't make the arrest this afternoon, I assume you lost him again afterwards.” 

She cocked her head. 

“Not exactly, Jack. He is lying upstairs.” 

The Inspector, who had just decided to take another sip, lived to regret it, as he spluttered the expensive drop over the carpet. 

“He is what?”

“Well he fell off a rooftop, luckily only onto the next roof down. Broke his leg.” Miss Fisher continued, obviously pleased with herself. Jack squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sense of this.   
“Miss Fisher, let me get this straight. You chased a Jewel thief and murder suspect off a roof top and then took him home with you? That is completely insane, even for your standards.” 

She huffed in mock hurt at this. 

“I didn't exactly throw him, he fell all by himself. And I couldn't really let him lie there.”   
“You could have called the police.” 

“You were busy. And you can't really arrest the poor kid anyway in his state. He's upstairs, sleeping and tomorrow we will have a word with him.” 

Jack shared a look with Mac that informed him, that she thought her friends action equally insane. The doctor shrugged her shoulder almost invisibly. 

“Phryne, he could be Marcel Denier's killer!” He tried again. 

“How fitting, he can live with another suspect then.” She quipped and got up to refill her glass. “Anyway, he's not going anywhere, his leg is truly and fully broken. And if you are worried, Jack...”

She purred, coming so close he could almost feel her “...you could always stay the night to protect me.” 

Jack looked up at her with dark eyes, understanding. He pulled himself upright, in sudden resolve. 

“Can I use your phone, Miss Fisher?” 

Obviously thrown, she nodded. 

“Of course.” 

He could feel her eyes follow him as he walked out into the hall and got a line to the station established. 

“Collins? I need you to stay at Miss Fisher's residence tonight.” He turned to see her still watch him, with an unreadable expression on her features. “Yes, all night. She decided to offer a killer residence at her house.” 

While he didn't need to look at Phryne to sense that she was annoyed, he noticed the look of proud approval he got from Dr. Macmillan. It was enough to bring a tiny smile to his lips. 

X

 

Despite what he'd said, Detective-Inspector Robinson had no intention whatsoever to return to his own house that night. The hours he'd spent there yesterday, tossing and turning through dusty sheets in deafening silence were enough to turn any man into a workaholic. Briefly he wondered what he would do if his move out of the Fisher household should prove to be permanent. He'd gotten used so quickly to a house full of people, his bedroom, her... He cleared his tight throat, pushing through the door to the Station, a greeting to the officer behind the desk on his lips. 

He would have to deal, Jack decided. He had been quite good at dealing with things on his own, once upon a time. Before Miss Fisher had swept through his door, turning everything upside down. With a sigh, he set his hat down. There was a pile of files waiting for him on his desk. He flicked the first open, before even taking off his coat. So Collins had been on the phone to the West and they had been happy to share. Generally not a good sign towards the probability of solving a case. The Inspector sat down nevertheless, without tearing his eyes from the pages. He had all night, after all. 

X

Hugh looked up from his place on a chair in front of one of the guest rooms, when he heard familiar steps draw closer. Dorothy extended a steaming cup towards him, complete with saucer. 

“I brought you some cacao.” She said, rather needlessly, as the smell was already attacking his nostrils, making his stomach squirm. 

“Thanks, Dottie.” He smiled at his sweetheart, taking the cup from her caring hands. 

“You know, I don't think its necessary that you sit here all night, Hugh.” He heard her say, while he burned his lips on the hot liquid, silently damning his greed. “Mr. Binley's got a broken leg, he would be hard pressed to get to the door, leave alone harm anyone.” 

“The Inspector has asked me to guard him and that's what I'll do. I would never forgive myself, if he escapes and hurts you or Miss Fisher or anyone else.” 

He locked gaze with her and Dorothy Williams was touched by what she could see in his big eyes. 

“You know I wasn't in danger, Hugh, don't you?” 

“You were on a factory rooftop with a killer, Dottie. That's hardly what I'd call a safe place.”

“Ryan is not a killer. He's a poor kid who went down the wrong path.” She huffed in sudden annoyance. “Miss Fisher had a gun and he didn't. And after all he was the only one who got hurt. ” 

To her surprise, Hugh took her hand and kissed it gently. 

“Just promise me, you will be careful?” 

Dottie could do nothing but nod, swallowing in her suddenly dry throat. A hungry stomach complained loudly into the touched silence. 

“I think, Hugh Collins, if you truly insist on sitting here to guard someone who cannot walk and is all over harmless, I better make you a sandwich.” 

The Constable smiled after her as she vanished down the dark stairs. He was a very lucky man indeed. 

 

X

“Good morning, Jack.” 

Detective-Inspector Robinson opened his blurry eyes and lifted his head, with some effort, from the hard wood of his desk. A piece of paper took the opportunity to stay stuck to his cheek in a humorous fashion, only to flutter away when he was half upright. Miss Fisher stepped in front of his desk in a bright red coat and a better mood than should be allowed at this time of day. 

“I am glad you are getting some well deserved sleep, Inspector. However, I do believe you wanted to ask Mr. Binley some questions.” 

Jack licked his dry lips and cursed the spell of sleep that had overwhelmed him some time near the dawn. 

“Good morning, Miss Fisher.” He finally brought out, sounding rough with sleep. Phryne realised that her heart was fluttering in her chest. She did adore Jack's wake-up voice and the look in his eyes, still half attached to his dream world. God, she missed waking up beside him. Or on him, under him... A smile flitted over her lips, that was missed completely by the yawning Detective. The Inspector had leaned back in his chair, trying to bind his tie he had loosened, as it was his habit when he was working late. His fingers however didn't seem to have arrived in the land of the living with the rest of his body. Phryne watched his futile attempts with fond amusement before she felt compelled to step in. 

“Allow me.” 

Jack let his hands drop into his lap and waited, eyes half closed, for her competent fingers. He knew he had once been able to fasten his own clothes. He had slept in his own bed and solved his own cases. In a time before Miss Fisher. The closer he let her, the less he seemed to be able to tear himself away. Like he had taken a taste of the forbidden fruit and now he was addicted. He was in way over his head and if nothing else he had proven that to both of them with his obvious display of desperate passion the other night. Phryne had finished and pulled her fingers away slower than was probably needed. He opened his eyes; she was still standing quite close and he could feel her breath weave through his disheveled hair. 

“Phryne, about the other night, I lost...”

A soft finger to his lips stopped him. 

“We both lost our heads, Jack. It happens.” 

She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead with the gentlest of gestures. He nodded, slowly. Letting this sink in. Phryne used the time to swing herself onto the edge of his desk. 

“And now Inspector, I propose you have a cup of coffee and rub that lipstick of your face, we have a thief to question.” 

A memory came floating back to Jack, something that had presented itself to him sometime early in the morning, in the haze of two nights of no sleep. In sudden movement he grabbed the folder lying on top of the pile and flipped through it, followed by the interested eyes of Miss Fisher. Finally he seemed to have found what he was looking for. 

“Maybe more than one, Miss Fisher.”


	14. Frost

Ryan Binley indeed didn't make the impression of a dangerous criminal. In the soft morning light and a spare pair of Mr. Butlers striped Pyjamas about three sizes to big on him, he did look like a kid who had stumbled into his grandfathers cabinet by accident. Jack resolved that he wouldn't let himself be fooled. He pulled up a chair beside the bed, Miss Fisher decided to keep standing.   
“Mr. Binley. Detective-Inspector Robinson. As your host has probably already told you, I have to ask you some questions. 

“About the robbery?” Ryan asked calmly.

“About the robbery.”

“I'm sorry, Sir. Really am. I thought the Deniers probably wouldn't even miss a few necklaces, they probably would just buy more. And...” He gulped and dropped his head. “...it was just too tempting to resist.” 

The Inspector nodded, fishing his notebook out of his coat pocket. 

“How did you know where to find the valuable things, Ryan?” Cut Phryne Fisher into the resulting silence. The stable-hand bit his lip but stayed quiet, staring down at his cast. 

“Mr. Binley, we know you were not alone. I doubt this was even your plan.”

The young thief was kneading the white sheets between restless fingers. Finally he had reached a decision. 

“She told me I'd get a fair cut if I'd empty the safe while the Deniers are at their party and stash things into the car. Even told me the combination.”

“That explains why there was not a scratch on it.” Jack stated under his breath. Ryan didn't seem to have heard him. 

“And then she changed her mind and told me to also take that bloody stupid gold cup out of the Masters room. Promised me, she'd keep him occupied.” 

Miss Fisher sat down at the edge of Ryan's bed. 

“But something went wrong, didn't it?” 

Mr. Binley seemed in his own world, looking at the events of Thursday night behind his closed lashes. 

“I was just picking it up, when the Master was standing in front of me. He was so angry, yelling obscenities and then... he just collapsed. She was behind him, with a statue in her hand, and he was bleeding all over the carpet. And I couldn't move, I was just standing there thinking that now I will hang, that it was all over. But she said that he was alright, he was still breathing and that I needed to go and hide everything and it would be alright. So I left.” 

Jack bit his lip. So Phryne's instincts had been right, yet again. This was just a kid who had been dragged into this by the bling of gold. 

“So what happened then?” He asked, putting his notebook away. He was unlikely to forget this conversation. 

“I hid the stuff in the car and then I tried to go to sleep. The next morning I was summoned by Mr. Ellis, who said our Master had been going missing and I needed to come. The rest you know.”   
“You panicked when you found out he was dead?”

“Wouldn't you have, Miss? I killed him. Well, she killed him but I was right there. We are both gonna hang.” 

The two detectives locked eyes. 

“I don't think you will, Ryan. But it would help if you hand over the stolen items and give us a detailed statement.” The Inspector finally said. Once again, silence attacked the room. When Ryan spoke, his voice wasn't more than a whisper. 

“I don't have them any more. I gave them to her, Friday night. It's blood money now, I don't want it.” 

Phryne frowned.

“I saw you holding something, on the roof.” 

To her astonishment Binley fished under his pillow, before pulling out a golden necklace with a tiny cross on it. 

“It was my sister Anna's, I don't go anywhere without it. I'm not lying, I gave everything to her.”   
Phryne ran a fingertip over the necklace in her hand, suddenly feeling extremely angry. The Inspector pushed his chair back. 

“Well, I guess Miss Fisher, we really should pay some acquaintances a polite visit, don't you?” 

X

“Why would I steal from my friends? Look around! Does it appear that I need to?”   
The Inspector did look around. In fact, it rather surprised him, how old fashioned Marie White's house was decorated. 

“It certainly looks like you spent a lot of money on it. Where exactly does it come from though, Miss White? I cannot seem to find any source of income in your background.” 

With a slight pout, that she probably considered attractive and most men, including Jack Robinson would have to agree, she lit a cigarette and started blowing smoke rings through the air of her salon.  
“I inherited some and my fiancè is also quite happy to help, aren't you, darling.” 

Mr. David M. Price, who up till now had been sitting silently on the love seat beside her, switched on a smile on his face and agreed. 

“That's odd.” Cut Miss Fisher in who had been standing in the background, her arms crossed over her chest. “Because I do believe that you went bankrupt just two months ago, didn't you, David?”   
Colour drained from his face. The Inspector watched on, biting back a smile. 

“Strangely that date fell close together with the start of a series of robberies all around Melbourne.” He stated before slapping down a case file in front of the couple. 

“On September 25th the first victims were Mr. and Mrs. Dreadford in St. Kilda, during a anniversary party. Then October 12th Mr. Dukeson during the engagement celebrations for his son Albert. October 18th Vivian and Berthold Wagner, again during a party. Do I need to go on? I'm certain, you remember them rather well. And there is only one person on the guest list of every single robbery in the last two months and that is you, Mr. Price.” 

Miss Fisher mused that David Price would actually make quite a good actor. He seemed genuinely gobsmacked by having been found out. 

“How...? I wasn't...” He opened and closed his mouth like a stranded fish. 

“That doesn't prove anything.” Miss White said, clutching onto her coolness with a faux smile.   
“No, but we do have a witness. You might remember him, name of Ryan Binley. And I'm quite sure, if we dig deeper, we will find more stable-hands, maids and kitchen helps who are willing to talk, as well as philandering husbands who, for a little fun, gave away their secrets.” Miss Fisher pointed out. Marie stayed silent, fiddling with her lighter. 

“But this time, something went wrong, didn't it, Miss White?” Jack finally continued. “Your little scheme didn't work, you didn't manage to distract Marcel Denier from returning to his private rooms. He found your accomplice in the middle of stealing his beloved goblet. So you knocked him out with a marble statue and then you sent the kid away and called in your fiancè to help you dispose of the body.“

While he had talked, Marie White had turned paler and paler, while her husband-to-be seemed frozen to the spot. 

“Marie!? What have you done with Marcel?“

That was a turn of events neither of the detectives had expected. They waited with bated breath how things would unfold. Miss White took another draw of her cigarette with shaky fingers.

“Alright. It's true. I have stolen from the Deniers. But I have not killed Marcel, that is a lie. He was alive when I left him. It was stupid really, Marcel just really wanted to be alone with me, I couldn't stop him from dragging me to his sitting room, was just praying that the stupid kid would not be there any more but of course he stood there with the goblet in hand like in a stupid film.“ She laughed a bitter laugh. „Marcel lost it completely, he yelled and screamed, I was scared he would start to strangle Binley any second. And before I knew it I was holding his ridiculous Aphrodite statue in my hand and he was lying on the floor, bleeding like a pig.”

David watched his fiancèe with his mouth hanging open. 

“So you did have an affair with him?!“ He finally uttered. Phryne couldn't resist rolling her eyes up to the heavens. Marie White threw her fiancé a look of disgust. 

“If it any consolation for your pride, it was just to find out where he had been stashing his valuables. It's not like you are much help any more in that department. A lady does have needs.”   
Jack shook his head in silence as Price locked his arms over his chest and moved away from what Phryne suspected, was his former wife-to-be. 

“So how did you manage to drag Denier to the lake then, Miss White?” 

She froze in the middle of lighting another cigarette. 

“I haven't. As I said, he was alive when I left him. Bleeding a lot but breathing. Id take any oat on this, Inspector.” 

She tried a charming smile that dripped off the Inspectors armor without even a weak try to penetrate it. Then she turned towards her lover. 

“Do you have anything to do with this, David?!” 

He drummed his fingers on the table. 

“You don't actually believe I would kill a man, just because he's gotten his hands on you, do you?”   
Phryne started to lose patience. 

“So, you what? Left Marcel lying on the floor and hoped he would die while you went back to the party?” 

Miss White looked up in shock, like this had never even occurred to her. She was not that great an actress, Miss Fisher found. 

“No. No, no, no. He was breathing, I swear. And I thought, I was hoping, that maybe he would just forget. My aunt had a flowerpot falling on her head once and she couldn't remember anything around that and he hadn't seen me and... I just thought, it would work out somehow.”

“So you were just hoping that you would get away with the jewels and let Mr. Binley take the fall if necessary?” Jack stated, his voice showing a hint of frost. 

Silence answered him. There was nothing more Marie wanted to add to this. Her fiancé didn't feel the same way. 

“I can't believe this. How could you do this? You endangered both of our reputations, our connections. How could you?” 

“Besides the small fact that she did endanger Marcel's life.” Phryne threw in dryly. Jack ignored her comment as well as he could. 

“So you deny any involvement in the robberies, Mr. Price?” 

“You have to believe me, Inspector, I had no idea what this... Marie was up to.” 

Miss Fisher watched the show in front of her with dwindling amusement. It was a rather bad theater really. 

Under three questioning pairs of eyes, David M. Price jumped up and walked over to a small writing desk, where he retrieved a little book, bound in dark brown leather. 

“Look, on October 18th, when my girl here robbed the Wagners, I was up in Sydney.” 

Inspector Robinson took the book from his hands and ran a finger over the page, taking in the rather messy curls of ink. 

“I believe you, Mr. Price.” He finally said, handing the notebook to Miss Fisher. “If only, because it would be more than stupid to blackmail and rob the same man.”


	15. Half Moon

The clinking of two crystal glasses echoed of the aquamarine walls, only lit by the fire. 

„They make a lovely couple, your friends.“ Jack teased, before taking a sip of his drink. 

„Acquaintances, Jack, and I rather think the contact will dwindle at this stage.“ 

Phryne smiled and took a gulp, looking at him over the edge of her glass. Jack leaned back into the soft cushions and wished quietly he could stay the night. 

„I talked to the Sinclairs this afternoon.“ He said, after a moment of comfortable silence. „Annabel insists, it has only happened the once and stupidly at David Prices house, during a night of board games and rather senseless drinking. Brad Sinclair knew about the indiscretion of his wife; our friend was attempting to blackmail him as well. Unluckily for him, Sinclair's business is quite slow, much like his blackmailer's has been of late. So, he was showing off an empty hand of cards Thursday night as I suspected.” 

The Inspector drained his glass, feeling like a rather content tom-cat. This moment, sitting with Miss Fisher and quietly chewing over murder suspects with a whisky in his hand could have been almost perfect. If there hadn't been the empty bed waiting for him at home. He sighed. Phryne swirled the amber liquid in her glass thoughtfully.   
“Could you imagine he would have harmed Marcel? Out of jealousy or maybe believing him to be the blackmailer?”   
Robinson pondered this for a moment, then he shook his head. 

“I don't think he cares enough for his wife to kill. And he suspected the blackmailer to be Price it seems. So nobody is really presenting themselves as a main suspect right now. I am quite certain, that it couldn't have been Marie White. She doesn't have the strength to drag a grown man to the lake.” 

“Unless she had help.” Phryne mused quietly. 

“You are thinking Ryan Binley?” 

Both stayed silent for some time. 

“I don't want the kid to be involved.” Miss Fisher admitted. “But justice is not about what we want.” 

The detective nodded. 

“But if Ryan was still in the room at the time Miss White bashed Denier over the head with the statue, I would assume they would have tried to rid themselves of the corpse quickly before anyone would have noticed. Down the back stairs, through the park, that would only have taken minutes for two people. But there must have been a lot of blood that clotted to Deniers hair, enough for there to still be residue the next morning after hours in water. And there was none on his shirt, which surely couldn't have been accomplished moving him either.” 

“So, he was lying on the carpet some time.” Phryne concluded, barely hiding a smile. “Allowing enough time for the blood to dry and sink into the carpet.” 

“I believe so, Miss Fisher. Which leads to the conclusion that it was a third person who found the victim and took the opportunity.”

The detectives sat in companionable silence. The flames threw moving shadows over the floor near Phryne's feet. She pulled her legs up onto the chair and looked at Jack, who was sitting quietly in the next seat over, appearing relaxed and really like he had always been there. Something about the way his dark eyes returned her gaze let her heart quicken. 

“You never actually told me the details of what happened that night after I left, Miss Fisher.” He said in a voice that made her toes tingle. 

“I believe we happened to slip of the subject the other day, Inspector.” She parried, rejoicing in the slight blush creeping over his cheeks. He cleared his throat. 

“Maybe now would be a good time to return to it then.” 

Phryne cocked her head, wondering if she was treading on dangerous grounds, yet again. 

“Is that the jealous lover or the Inspector asking, Jack?” 

He gave her a small smile. 

“Both, Miss Fisher.” 

With some effort, Phryne tore her eyes from him and stared at her walls unseeingly, trying to remember all the little details she'd rather forgotten. 

“I danced with the Captain, then Steven O'Rylley, then I believe David. He seemed rather grumpy. Brad Sinclair was arguing with his wife about her getting too drunk, when I took a break for some refreshments, she stormed away. I guess to pout somewhere. I remember thinking that Pauline was looking at me awkwardly, with a strange little smirk, but didn't put too much weight on that. Marcel was having quite some fun with Marie by the look of it, but I believe she'd gotten nervous about Price's mood and took a break from dancing with him, which was when he latched onto me.”

The Detective had leaned forward in his chair, giving his full attention to his lovers memories. He tried to battle back the tiny needles of jealousy and think like a policeman. 

“He was already three sheets to the wind.” Miss Fisher continued. “Pulled me a little closer to himself than was comfortable; but that was Marcel for you. We shared two dances then I chose to have another break. He followed me out onto the terrace, started gabbling something about the full moon. He was too intoxicated to notice that it was only a half.” 

The Inspector couldn't keep a tiny smile from ghosting over his lips that disappeared instantly on the next sentence.

 

“Then he tried to kiss me. I pushed him away. He slurred something about how I he had never forgotten me and if I couldn't remember. I believe there was some insults about Pauline meddled in there too. It was all quite disgusting.”

Jack felt himself digging his fingers into the amber cushions of his seat. With some effort he released them and took a deep breath. Policeman! He needed to remember that. 

“He tried it again and that was when I kicked him against the shin.” 

Phryne looked up at her lover, recognising the stormy clouds in his grey eyes. She curled her red lips into a smile in an attempt to defuse his anger. 

“Quite effective those heels, I can tell you, Jack.” 

“What happened next?” He asked with the breathlessness of someone who had forgotten the need for air a moment too long. 

“Denier was holding his leg. I seem to remember him also yelling some obscenities while hopping around, that I will not repeat. It was quite amusing. I tend to think, his servants were enjoying the view too.” 

Jack's attention spiked at that. 

“There were other people on the terrace?” 

“Yes, Ellis was out there and some maids, cleaning empty glasses away. So I was quite happy to leave Marcel behind with his battle injuries. Little later he was back on the dance floor with Marie and I remember seeing them last around midnight, after most of the guest had left for home.“

“If Simon Ellis was there, why didn't he stop his employer when he tried to force himself on you?” 

Phryne smirked at this. 

“Because he's been with the Deniers for years, Jack. He's a loyal servant and he's making sure to stay out of things that aren't his business. Plus, he is aware that I can fend for myself.” 

That wasn't good enough for Jack. The idea that Phryne had been in danger and people had just watched on, let his stomach clench. Miss Fisher read his thoughts. 

“I'm sure he would have pushed in, if anything worse would have happened, Jack. And I do think Marcel was already too far gone to really try anything much.” 

Jack Robinson unclenched his fists in an effort to return to his former relaxed self. But the thought that he himself should have been there to protect Phryne Fisher was echoing violently through his thoughts. How could he ever know her to be safe if even a birthday party turned out to be this dangerous? And another realisation hit the Inspector in the gut: He was ashamed for his jealousy. 

“Jack?” 

Phryne was crouching beside his chair, looking up at him with big, worried eyes, a hand lying on his sleeve in a soothing gesture. He had come home intent to punish her for her infidelity, wanting to share the pain with her, knowing nothing about what had happened. And then... He suddenly felt nauseous as the rest of the night played out in front of his eyes. The Inspector all but jumped out of his chair, brushing her fingers off himself. 

“I better go.” He stammered, leaving before he would empty the contents of his stomach onto her carpet. 

When Mr. Butler came a few minutes later to look if his Mistress had any needs before he turned in, he found her sitting in her chair, looking lost. 

“Miss Fisher? Are you alright?”

She gazed up at the sound of his voice, giving him a smile that was betrayed by the tears glittering in her eyes. 

“I don't know.” 

She wasn't.


	16. Deep Waters

“What would you like to wear today, Miss?” 

Dorothy Williams was seriously worried when the answer to this was a vague gesture with the one of Miss Fishers hands that wasn't holding her tea cup. 

“Just pick something, Dot. Make it not too cheery, I will pay a visit to a widow this afternoon.” 

“You are heading out to see Mrs. Denier then, Miss?” 

Phryne looked up from the paper she had been reading. With another wave of alarm, her maid noticed the dark rings under her eyes. 

“Yes, I think I better break the news of Miss White's betrayal myself. I fear Pauline is rather attached to her.” 

“I better call Hugh and cancel our walk then. He was going to come around after his shift.”   
Miss Fisher picked up the pages again. 

“Nonsense Dot, I am quite able to bring bad news to my friends by myself.” 

Dorothy tried to pay no mind to her churning stomach as she picked out a pair of black pants and a sensible blouse for her Mistress and began running a bath. She resolved to talk to Hugh. Someone had to try and get some sense into the Inspector and it might as well be him. 

X

Jack Robinson had not taken the detour over his office in the last night. It seemed too easy a way out. Instead he had chosen it as his punishment to return to his cold house and crawl into his equally cold bed. To his own surprise he had managed barely half of an hour of spinning thoughts and self-loathing before exhaustion had gotten the better of him and had let him slip into a restless sleep.

Now he was sitting behind his desk with blurry eyes, trying to make sense of the chaos of paperwork on it. So he was little amused when his door opened and in came, without a knock as it was his habit, Commissioner Sanderson. 

“Good morning, Jack. I hear you made an arrest in the robberies. And in barely any time at all. It seems you are intent to take the jobs away from all other policemen in this city.” 

The DI had troubles hiding his irritation over the outstanding happiness his former father-in-law emitted. He nodded in acknowledgement of the joke and gestured for him to sit. 

“Can I do anything for you, George?” 

“I was wondering, how you are getting on with the Denier murder. I am told, Miss White is denying any involvement in his demise. Is there any prove she's lying?” 

“I doubt it.” Jack sighed. Quickly and efficiently he laid out the case as it was standing. He watched George take his glasses off his nose and clean them. In anyone else that would have annoyed him, but he knew Sanderson well enough to realise that he was sorting his thoughts. 

“You know, Jack..” He finally said, “...I had a call this morning from Albrecht Freudner; you might remember him, he is an old friend of mine, solicitor. Shocking at telling a joke. Anyway, he wanted to let me know that Pauline Denier had seen him the other week. Was considering a divorce. So you might want to talk to the lady again. But please try to be discrete.” 

He got up, moving his chair back in position. 

“I got to dash, I am meeting Rosie and Sidney for luncheon. And you have a murderer to catch, Jack. Or should I say a murderess?” 

He gave his former son-in-law something bordering dangerously on a wink before walking out. Jack sat gobsmacked for a few seconds. So Pauline Denier had been lying about her fondness of Marcel. It was not that he could blame her for the fact of wanting a divorce or some other form of ridding herself of this husband of hers. Nevertheless she would have encountered the same problem as Marie White. She needed an accomplice. 

“Collins?” Jack Robinson yelled, already fishing for his coat. “We are going out.” 

X

At the same time Miss Fisher was knocking already at the door, the Inspector was only just aiming for. Simon Ellis opened her with a friendly smile and took in his opposites tired frame.   
“Miss Fisher. I'm afraid, the lady of the house is out riding at the moment. But please do come through.”

Phryne let herself be led into the familiar private sitting room of Pauline Denier and sank down onto the powder blue love seat. 

“When are you expecting her back, Mr. Ellis?” 

“Quite soon, I believe she would only take the short route through the forest at this time of day. Can I offer you some tea while you are waiting?” He looked at her questioningly. “Milady also does keep a very special drop of Whiskey around for friends and if I may take the liberty of saying this, Ma'am, you seem to be in need of something stronger.” 

Miss Fisher didn't know if to feel offended by this. But then again she did like to see some spirit in a servant and it wasn't a secret to her that she looked like a ghost. 

“Thank you, that would be lovely.” She smiled, trying hard to suppress a yawn. While the Butler darted away busily to grab her drink she got up, inspecting the loving clutter that seemed to have found it's way into every corner of the estate. Miss Fisher picked up a clock in form of a gilded owl and shook it slightly, when her eye was caught by an old photograph. Gently she picked it up with gloved hands. It showed Marcel and Pauline on their wedding day, together with their party. In the back, one of the bridesmaids blinking strangely into the French sun seemed awfully familiar. 

“Your Whiskey, Miss Fisher.”

The lady detective took the glass, but didn't manage to tear her gaze away from her younger self. It was strange. Even though she remembered it, it felt like another life. Nobody could have told that   
only weeks before, the Honourable Phryne Fisher had been lying in the happy grooms arms. And definitely not the beaming bride. Jack was right, if Pauline had found out she did have a motive. But then Phryne eye got caught by another face on the picture. 

“Is that you, Mr. Ellis? Beside the groom?” 

Simon, who had just rearranged some pillows, made a curious step closer. 

“I fear I was the best man at the wedding, Miss.” 

“That is odd for a butler, isn't it?”

The expression on his face froze at her words and Miss Fisher instantly regret to have uttered them. A faint memory flicked through her mind. 

“I wasn't born a butler.” He said stiffly. “This was before I entered the service of the Deniers.  
Phryne nodded slowly and put the picture back down. She walked over to the love seat and took another deep gulp from the crystal, buying time. 

“You are in love with her, aren't you.” She finally said, causing the Butler to spin around just when he had reached the door frame. He didn't have to answer, the look on his face told the whole story of a decade of suppressed emotion. 

“I am not sure what you mean, Miss.” 

She nodded again, letting the hot liquid burn down her throat. The Whisky was by far not as nice as her own, but it gave her a warm feeling in her stomach, that was strangely comforting right now in the middle of her spinning thoughts. 

“And maybe you helped her get rid of him because he was hurting her too much. Did you, Simon?”  
She watched his Jaw set in disgust. 

“Pauline had nothing to do with Marcel's death.” The Butler said stiffly, forgetting all etiquette. Phryne's fingers automatically searched for her handbag and closed over the reassuring metal of her gun. “So it was you then? You found him half dead in his sitting room and decided to finish the job...” Phryne trailed off, suppressing another yawn. What a terrible time for the sleepless night to catch up with her. She suddenly noticed she was struggling to keep her eyes open and understood. Felt Ellis step closer and take the glass from her unresisting fingers, then pull the handbag away, wrestling the pistol from her. 

“You were always a very smart woman, Miss Fisher. But you weren't clever enough to leave your fingers off Pauline's husband.” He stated calmly. “And also not smart enough to not drink something a killer is offering you.” 

Phryne swore under her breath about her own stupidity before the room started to blur into a blotch of colours and then faded to white.


	17. Stormy Waters

To the Inspectors surprise he wasn't confronted with Simon Ellis when knocking at the Deniers door. Instead the blonde Elisabeth tried herself on a shy smile. 

“We would like to speak Mrs. Denier, please.” 

“I'm not sure if she's in, Sir. I will need to check with the butler.” 

Jack decided to not take any chances for a disappearing act of Pauline Denier and barged past the maid with a friendly but firm excuse on his lips, followed by an equally eager Constable Collins.  
When he pushed open the door to Mrs. Deniers rooms a confused looking Simon Ellis spun around.   
“Sorry Sir.” He panted, setting a Whiskey glass back onto the table. “You gave me a fright.” 

Jack Robinson had seen many suspicious people in his career and the butler had “guilty” written in block letter across his forehead. It enforced the thought that he had been his employers accomplice in the murder of her husband. 

“Where is Mrs. Denier, Mr. Ellis?” He asked without a greeting. 

“She is riding out, Sir. Should be back soon.” 

Jacks look dropped to the glass on the table, unmistakable marks of lipstick on the rim.   
“I don't believe you.” He spat. “Where is she?” 

On Simon Ellis forehead drops of sweat started to form. The Inspector became aware of Collins nudging him in an effort to catch his attention. The Constable pointed at the feet of the butler that were dripping onto the floor, his pants drenched up to the knee in water. The detectives mouth fell open as his look swept back to the glass. Before any of the men could react, he had thrust his pistol at the Constable and stormed out the door. 

X

Phryne Fisher awoke at the bottom of the lake. She blinked lazily into the light filtering through the water, dipping everything into a magical aquamarine. Her stabbing lungs insisted that she needed to stop thinking and swim up if she wanted to live, but her arms felt like lead. She was so, so tired. Miss Fisher closed her eyes again and gave herself to the soft waves that gently rocked her back to sleep. 

 

X

Jack Robinson ran for his life. Quite literally, as he wasn't sure how he could go on if he came too late. A thousand thoughts were spinning through his mind as he stormed down the stairs, falling over his own feet and landing, swearing, on the hard stone floor. He paid no mind to his bleeding knee or his throbbing wrist, scrambled back to his feet and kept running. Not a single thought got any attention from him but one: Phryne. His lungs stabbed in protest over the mistreatment, as he reached the lake. His eyes dashed over the quiet water. Where should he start searching, this bloody thing was huge? His feet started running again, nothing was as bad as stopping. It occurred to him briefly that he should have asked Ellis. Beaten it out of him with his fists, if he had to. But it was too late now. He was here and all he had were his feet running as fast as they could and the hope that somehow he could sense where she was. A little white dot in the distance caught his eye; Jack flew along the water, stumbled over a bundle of reeds, inconveniently growing in his path. He got back to his feet without even stopping in his movement. His eyes focused on the white hat bobbing on the waves. Jack sent a prayer of thanks to a god he didn't really believe in any more and stormed into the water. In seconds his coat was soaked and he had to peel it off while he waded deeper, reached the hat. He dove underneath, appeared again seconds later spluttering water, but not giving up, not giving in. She had to be here! Just when he thought he would drown himself his arm bumped against something soft. He gripped, grabbed her with all the strength he had left and dragged her to the surface. Miss Fisher's face was even paler than usual, her lips already blue. He resisted the urge to shake her, fighting instead the water and the weight of both their soaked clothes to drag her to the shore. When his feet had proper grip again, he ripped her up into his arms and carried her. Phryne Fisher felt strangely light even though there was water pouring from her coat. Like the life draining from her had taken her weight with it. Jack lay her body down on the grass, now finally giving into his want to shake her awake. He realised numbly that he had been yelling her name for the most of the last, breathless minutes. His fingers stroked her wet hair, slapped her pale cheeks, trying desperately to somehow get life back into her unmoving frame. The time stretched endlessly under the azure sky as Jack Robinson begged for his lovers life. And then, to his infinite relief she opened her blue eyes and spat a gust of water over his caring hands. 

Coughing and spluttering Phryne Fisher returned to the land of the living. She was cold and shaking and still exhausted, but there was a pair of grey eyes hovering over her that dropped warm, salty tears onto her face and two hands that didn't seem to be able to stop touching her. It was actually quite close to heaven, she found herself thinking. Jack didn't notice he was crying till a warm drop spilled onto the back of his hand. He felt the weight of the world fall from his shoulders, suddenly considering himself the biggest fool under the sun for having wasted what could have been their last night together. He wrapped his arms around the shivering Phryne and held her tightly to himself till they both had found their breath again. 

X

The rest of the day had gone by in a blur. Jack remembered dimly to have escorted, half carrying, half walking, Miss Fisher back to the Estate, where police had been just arriving. Pauline Denier had returned little later; she had indeed taken the short route through the forest and was devastated when she'd found her Butler arrested and her friend drugged and half-drowned by his hands. She had offered her help, her hospitality and about everything else she could think of which they had all politely but firmly denied, save for a change of dry clothes and a ride home. 

Jack Robinson had decided that it was safer to stay away from Simon Ellis as far as possible at this stage and time, but had dropped by the Station nevertheless to hear how they had been going with his interrogation. He hadn't stuck around to fill any paperwork. That had time till tomorrow. Instead he now sat on Phryne Fishers bed, watching her in her sleep. 

“She will wake up soon, it's just sleeping pills. He couldn't have taken too many or she would have tasted them.” Stated Mac quietly from the window. 

“Thank you, doctor.” The Inspector said, tearing his eyes away. Elisabeth nodded at him silently. Then she pushed herself upright and grabbed her bag. When the door fell shut behind her, Phryne opened her eyes. 

“Thank god, I thought she would never leave.” 

He couldn't help but smile at this. 

“And there I always thought, you enjoyed Dr. MacMillans company.” 

She pulled herself up onto an elbow and smiled back. 

“I do. But right now I don't need anyone to tell me how stupid I was.” With another look at him she added: “So don't you start, Inspector.” 

Jack decided that he could tell her how stupid she had been at another point in time. Silently he reached out his hand and cupped her cheek, locking eyes with her and gently running his thumb over her lips. He was still thanking god that he had gotten to her just in time. 

“I'm just glad you're still here.” He heard himself say aloud. Her eyes softened at this. 

“So am I.” Phryne took his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Thank you.” 

The Inspector noticed that tears were pushing back into his eyes and chose to change the subject.   
„Simon Ellis has confessed to everything, you will like to hear. He found his master that night without conscience on the carpet and thought it to be his one chance to rid his wife of him. It seems he is rather attached to Pauline Denier. However, your friend is in the clear, she had not known what happened to her husband. She did toy with the idea of divorce, but that is not exactly a crime. “   
Phryne nodded at this and fished for her tea cup that had been left on the nightstand by Dot's loving hands. It was only lukewarm at this stage, but it tasted heavenly. She became aware of the Inspector intensely watching her. 

“How did you know? That it was Ellis?” 

Miss Fisher set the cup down. 

“A photograph brought back a memory. He was Marcel's best friend back in the day. I didn't recognise him after all those years, he was still going by the name Sid then and was all over quite different.”

Jack nodded. 

“And he knew of your... flirtation with his best friend?” 

“I assume so. He was always remarkably fond of Pauline. I remember thinking that he would have preferred to marry her himself. But he showed a happy face at their wedding nevertheless and then he obviously became their butler later on. I would assume to keep an eye on Pauline.” 

Jack chewed on his lip, when Phryne continued. 

“What a terrible fate to be near the woman you're in love with only for her to be treated this badly, while she is out of reach for yourself.” 

She snapped back into the present to notice the Detective kneading his hands and lay her own fingers on them soothingly. 

“Then again, sometimes she is not as unreachable after all.” She said, barely more than a whisper.   
The Inspector cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. 

“I believe whatever Mr. Ellis has witnessed that night on the terrace pushed him over the edge. And then, when the chance presented itself, he couldn't resist.”

Phryne pondered this for a while, her eyes glued to the sheets. 

“I wonder how he was intending to get away with murdering me, though.”

Jack's breath hitched in his chest at those words being uttered. The fear for her still stuck in his bones. Even though she had gotten herself into danger so often in the past, the terror at the prospect of losing her seemed to never fade. 

“I don't think he was hoping to.” He finally answered her question. “I rather believe it was a sort of suicide mission to rid his beloved mistress of all betrayal. Once he had killed, he knew there was no way back. And he also realised that he could never be with her.”

“The day he became her butler, he chose to be invisible.” Miss Fisher said quietly, pondering the unfairness of this. A sudden smile snuck around her lips.

“You know Jack, I've seen an article last year in an American magazine. It featured the rules on writing a detective story and stated quite clearly that one should never, ever make the murderer a butler.” 

Jack Robinson couldn't help but grin, when he stated dryly: “It appears, Miss Fisher, that Simon Ellis has not read that article.”


	18. Rainbow

The lake glittered in the warming sunlight, seemingly unaware of the horrors it had lately been backdrop to. Jack Robinson got out of his car, a bag in hand that on movement jingled quietly. A new butler, this time the old and stuffy kind, showed him through to the terrace, where the lady of the house was holding her pretty face into the Australian sun, a cat rolled up on her lap, snoring quietly. A light breeze rustled through the leaves of the Gumtree that was throwing its shadow onto the stones. 

“Mrs. Denier?”

She opened her eyes. 

“Ah, Inspector Robinson. Is Phryne feeling better?” 

“She is perfectly fine. She has just taken a few days off from detecting on strict orders from her doctor.” And her lover, he finished the sentence quietly in his head. 

Pauline looked at him with a knowing smile, offering him a seat. Robinson let himself fall on a chair uncomfortably and set down the bag. 

“I won't stay long, Mrs. Denier, I just wanted to bring you back the valuables Mr. Binley and Miss White have stolen from you.”

A shadow crept over his opposites face at the mention of her former friends betrayal. 

“It is still hard to believe how wrong one can be in the confidantes he chooses.” Pauline finally uttered thoughtfully. The Inspector nodded at this with a grim expression. It must have been a rather harsh week for the ladies confidence in humanity. An obviously tone-deaf bird started singing in the gum tree as if to comment on this. 

“I miss him.” Jack heard her say, ripping him from his thoughts. She smiled at the Inspector. “Simon. Even more than my husband actually, though it is unforgivable what he did. It is curious how you can grow accustomed to someone being in your life. Until they are not.” 

Jack made a sound at this that could have been interpreted as agreement and pushed himself out of his chair. 

“I'm afraid, I have to get back, Mrs. Denier. But please look through your things and let me know if they are complete.” 

“Jack?” He froze and looked at her in disbelief. It was the first time she had ever referred to him as anything but a policeman. “That is your name, isn't it?” She asked and he could do nothing but nod, while he sank back down.   
“You know, on the night of my birthday I was watching Phryne quite closely. I was curious. She hasn't brought a date with her ever before.” She said conversationally. Inspector Robinson stayed quiet. He had no idea where this was leading, but he could feel his hands go sweaty.   
“And she danced and flirted with all kinds of men.” Pauline continued.   
“Very observant of you, thank you.” Jack mumbled under his breath, once again making an attempt to get up. 

“But her eyes were searching for you all night. Like you were her anchor.” 

The DI looked at Mrs. Denier, as if she had just slapped him with a piece of rainbow. A smile flitted over the widows pretty face. “And I remember thinking to myself, that this police officer might just be the one man who could settle down Phryne Fisher.” 

The Detective-Inspector nodded at this, letting it sink in. Wordlessly, but his mind full of thoughts, he finally managed to get onto his wobbly knees and walk to the door, where he turned around with a small smile. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Denier. But I believe one might as well try to tame the Pacific Ocean.” 

X

Miss Fisher watched from the window of her parlour, as the Inspector got out of his car, lifting a small suitcase from the back seat. Her heart leaped in her chest, even though he stood for a second, seemingly pondering if he was really willing to go through with this. 

In fact, Jack Robinson was quite aware that he had little choice in the matter. The last few months had made one thing quite clear: Returning to his old life was not an option. Miss Fisher, with her hurricane lifestyle and her house full of strays would have to deal with one more lost soul to take care of. With resolve he pushed through the red iron gate and walked towards the door that would once again bring him home, when he got side tracked by the young man that, his cast outstretched onto a second chair, sat on Miss Fisher's veranda, reading a book. Ryan Binley looked up greeting him friendly. Jack wasn't quite sure if he liked the fact that the thief didn't seem to be particularly worried about a police officer standing in front of him. Truth be told, he had nearly forgotten that the kid was still staying with Miss Fisher. Damn. 

It was the lady of the house herself that opened up and for a moment, Jack's courage left him. 

“So you are moving back in then, Jack?” She asked, her voice unreadable. 

“If I am still welcome.” 

The Inspector realised that he was holding his breath till her mouth cracked into a smile. 

“Always.” 

She stepped aside to let him in and he stood lost in her hall, wondering just how he had ended up here. 

“In fact, I will help you unpack.” She said, taking his hat and coat from him before grabbing his hand and pulling him up the stairs. When the Inspector stepped back into his sanctuary he breathed a sigh of relief and joy. He had missed this place. 

“Welcome home, Jack.” 

Phryne's voice was no more than a whisper near his neck but the Inspector could feel himself responding on more than one level to her nearness. There was a gooey feeling in the pit of his stomach her words had caused. The hair on the back of his neck was standing to attention when he turned to wrap his arms around her. Miss Fisher was slightly surprised by this embrace, but nevertheless very pleased. Things were stirring back into the right direction and so she dared to place her own hands onto his back and put all the affection she felt for him into her eyes, looking up at him. The smile that answered her, spoke of so much love and happiness that she felt her stomach flip. She stretched up and brushed a faint kiss onto his lips that he returned with equal tenderness.   
The Detective-Inspector cleared his throat and let go of her, still smiling. 

“So, after we have cleared that tiny detail, we should probably have a chat about your other house guest.” 

“Ryan? He's recovering well. I believe in a few weeks he will be back to his old self.” 

Jack raised his eyebrows, while opening his suitcase. 

“His old self that is a jewel-stealing stable hand.”

“Nobody's perfect.” 

Inspector Robinson shook his head at this, sitting down at the edge of the bed and watching her with humorous eyes. 

“Phryne, he is a criminal and he will have to be charged for stealing from his employers.” 

She pulled her lips into a pout. 

“He is barely a man, Jack, and dirt-poor. Alone in the world with his mother. He just wanted a piece of the cake. Crumbs really.” 

“So what do you propose we do, Miss Fisher? Keep him here?”

To his frustration her face lit up. 

“That is a great idea. I do actually need a gardener. And from what Mr. Butler tells me, Mr. Binley is very good with his hands.”

The lady detective saw the barely noticeable flinch of the Inspectors brows at her suggestive joke a moment too late. His voice had dropped a few degrees when he spoke again. 

“Miss Fisher, there are laws. You can't always get everything the way you want it.” 

“What if I like getting things the way I want them?” Phryne said in a sultry tone of voice and closed the gap between them. But her words had not the intended effect. If anything the distance between them had grown bigger, she realised with a start. She kept needing to remind herself that Jack's mind didn't work like most men's. 

The Inspector escaped from her grasp by getting up, starting to unfold shirts and juggle hangers. Phryne watched him for a while in silence. 

“Are we going to talk about this?” She finally asked. 

“What is it that you would like to discuss, Miss Fisher?” 

“The crease in your brow you get every time I so much as look at a man.” 

He stopped dead. Then he resumed his work at a slower pace. She could tell his fingers were shaking. 

“You are who you are, Phryne and I will never ask you to give that up.” He eventually spoke in the direction of his cabinet. “I promised you this and I am a man of my word.” 

Miss Fisher didn't find anything to say. It had never occurred to her that he might still be concerning himself with a conversation that had happened months ago, when she had attempted to defend her frail freedom from the one man she sensed could bring it to its knees. It had taken Phryne Fisher a long time to chose between those two cherished things; mostly, because she had always been quite aware that she could not have both. And when she had finally decided to give herself to Jack, she had done so in the knowledge that being with anyone else would break his heart. Miss Fisher had no intention of letting any harm come to it. 

She suddenly realised that she had just assumed he knew. Her dalliances had stopped, not the harmless flirtations, because those were hers to have, but no other man had touched her sheets, her heart or even her lips since the day Phryne had let her defenses against Jack Robinson fall down. Marcel Denier had tried and paid a lot more for it than she could have imagined. And now Jack stood here, still folding clothes into his cabinet in an infuriatingly tidy manner in the firm believe she would betray him at the blink of an eye, and that he had no right to stop her. Maybe, talking was underrated after all. 

“Jack?” She laid a hand on his shoulder and felt him stiffen under her fingers. “What are you saying?”

“Don't worry, I will learn to cope.” He uttered, his voice sounding suspiciously rough, but not convincing. “Eventually.” 

In fact, Jack wasn't at all sure if he would. But what he was very certain of was, that he could not walk away without breaking his own heart. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place and had been ever since Miss Fisher had swept through his door. There was no way out. So he had resolved to stick around as long as he could bear it and hope to god, that it would get easier with time. Maybe it was worth it – maybe not; but there was nowhere to hide from the fact that he couldn't seem to breath without her. 

“Jack.” She tried again. Softly. Right behind him. He let his lashes flutter shut and leaned against her warm body, felt her arms wrap around him. A lost tear slipped down his cheek. 

Another time she whispered his name. He couldn't answer; no words would squeeze through the tightness of his throat. When her hands pulled away, he barely repressed a groan at the loss. Phryne grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face her. Reluctantly Jack opened his eyes, aware that she could see it all. Her own were full of worry and tenderness and it was beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. He could hear the truth in her voice, when she spoke. 

“This, what we have. Us. It's precious. I would never sacrifice that for something that crumbles to ashes in the morning light.” 

Jack stared at her, lost for words. Every single emotion in his body was fighting for the upper hand. None won. His confusion must have been obvious to her, as she reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, disheveling it in the way she had always loved to. 

“I'm not giving up who I am, Jack.” His breath hitched, even though she was smiling. “But things change, the world changes. I can make room for you.” 

He gulped heavily at this. Swallowed down the bitter taste that had lingered in his throat for the last days. She grabbed his hand that was still hanging weakly by his side and with both her own, guided it to lay flat on her chest, locking their eyes as if to underline her words. He could feel her heartbeat underneath his shaking fingertips and understood. He was not the only one who could not run. 

When his lips finally found hers their kiss was bitter-sweet, tender and breathtaking. Jack Robinson felt his doubts fall away, the ever present pain in his chest melt like chocolate in the sun. The emotion was surprising, astonishing and when he pulled back to look at her, something had changed in his face. There was a new softness to his features that Phryne had never seen before and it touched her so deeply that she thought her heart might stop then and there. 

But he gave her no time for this; his warm, strong hand took hers and with a smile that she would have very much considered sultry, if it hadn't been given by the ever proper Jack Robinson, he pulled her to his bed, dragging her down beside himself. He weaved his fingers through her black hair, gently guiding her head in for another kiss and closed the gap again. He tasted of oak and vanilla and so much more and Phryne wanted to melt into his tender lips and the arms wrapping themselves around her. For a while, they were lying together silently, while their eyes shared all their quiet little secrets that they had never had the time or guts to tell and probably never would. She felt his fingertips follow her frame not in search of anything but reminding himself that she was there and that she was his. It tingled. 

“You know, Jack...” She grinned, when her appetite for this form of intimacy was sated; “...once you got a woman into your bed, you are allowed to take her clothes off.” 

The tiny grin that she so dearly loved, snuck onto his face. 

“Is that a challenge, Miss Fisher?” 

“I rather think, most people would consider it tradition.” 

He pulled himself up onto his elbow and leaned over to kiss her again, this time with a bit more vigour, mumbling under his breath: “I wasn't aware that you are keen on traditions.” 

“There you see, Jack, you still have plenty to learn about me.” 

So they followed tradition in a slow and gentle manner, taking all the time in the world to taste and tease each other, make each other squirm and, as an attentive observer would have noticed with some confusion, also giggle. The afternoon slipped by in a haze of love making. When they finally ended up covered in expensive, cream coloured sheets and a thin film of sweat, their limbs wrapped around each other with the happy glow that is reserved for true - and repeated - lovers, Jack realised that the art of taming an ocean, lies in not even trying.


End file.
